Believe in Me
by run4life
Summary: As a wanderer, Eisa has little to worry about until an odd Company crosses paths with her. Between her questionable dwarven lineage, two mischievous princes, a moody ex-king, and what looks to be shaping up as a marvelous opportunity for an adventure, it looks like they've all got a lot to learn about family, love, and what matters most in the end. KilixOC
1. Prologue

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **Tolkien's brilliant. Enough said.

**A/N: **Hello there! (I'm having new-story-induced heart palpitations. But don't worry, that's a good thing.) I've dived into the fandom of The Hobbit after seeing the movie so many times I can nearly recite it the whole way through, and I'm loving every second of the madness. The temptation and plotbunnies were just too much for me to handle, what can I say? :'D I hope you enjoy what I'm constructing here, and with any luck the teaser-prologue will do the trick for now. Further chapters will be longer. Finally, I hereby dedicate the commencement of this fanfic to the wonderful **lightning-inspiration** for our long-winded rants on character development and plot and The Hobbit and just life in general; here's to finding kindred spirits! Enjoy!

* * *

**Prologue**

The wind was a westerly, coming in from the far-off sea. It was unusual for the spring, but the traveler on the east-west road wasn't about to complain.

A small shadow flitted over the ground in front of the young woman, and she heard the caw of a raven. _At this time of year?_ she thought, squinting up through the harsh sunlight to regard the bird with puzzlement. It was flying at a steady pace, taking the time to glide: something it would do on a long journey. It didn't look like it was just out on a short jaunt in search of food.

She really shouldn't be judging nature's norms, though. After all, this was still a new part of the world for her.

Currently traveling east on, yes, the Great East Road, she wasn't entirely sure where she wanted to go next. She'd been reluctant to leave the hobbits, whose culture she had been exploring lately. It had included much indulgence in the way of food, which she had appreciated entirely too heartily and had grown far too accustomed to. But the merry folk hadn't cared too much about where she was from, which was a plus, and didn't ask too many questions. They did, however, love a good story or two or twelve, and she had plenty of those to tell. Her tales of her travels had fascinated them, and she had to admit, being admired was not a bad feeling. The whole matter of holding the unwavering attention of everyone in the room had been a little alarming initially, as she had never experienced the feeling quite to that degree, but she had gotten over it quickly if only because of their overwhelming eagerness to listen.

At first she had in turn unnerved them; a young woman traveling alone and unarmed (or so they thought) with no one to protect her was not a common occurrence. She had decided not to share the anecdote about the first time she had discovered just how threatening her frying pan could be in a weaponless pinch in the midst of danger. What they didn't know about her occasional unorthodox methods of self-defense wouldn't hurt them. Besides, the peaceful farmers didn't get many foreign visitors in the first place, and she didn't want to completely lay waste to their opinions of travelers.

But leave she did. There were too many more places to visit, and besides, she could always come back in a few years or so. Or decades. She didn't plan on wasting a single minute of the time she had.

So on she went, with miles to go before having to choose a definitive course. Besides, the odds were good that some unknown element along the road would make a choice for her. After all, she was bound to run into something interesting before too long.

She planned to cross the Brandywine the next afternoon, a couple days out from Hobbiton, and then reach Bree in a few more. That might prove to be an adventure all its own, she mused, recalling with a chuckle the vehement urges of the hobbits that she simply must go to the Prancing Pony if she passed through Bree. "Finest ale east of the Brandywine," they'd said. Those were hobbits for you. At first it had bothered her a bit, how simple they were, how contentedly wrapped up in their little bubble of the Shire. Those across the river had been far more to her liking, despite being thought odd by the general population, but the Halflings had all grown on her over time.

Now, as she left the road in search of a place to camp, she almost wished for some company again. But that was silly. As she laid out her bedroll in a hollow spot between two trees, she began humming softly to herself.

The melody, she was sure, had shifted keys in her mind over time, but it was the tune to the lullaby that one of her caretakers had sung to her most often while she was still in the cradle and for years after. She had never forgotten it. The only way she had known how to start, when she was younger, had been to find the lowest note she could possibly sing or hum. It carried up from there, only to descend again before rising to its peak. The tune was somber, but somehow full of hope at the same time. It made her feel as though she missed her home terribly, even though she had never had one.

There was no way anyone could have known, but as she hummed herself into drowsiness, a rich bass voice was marking out the same melody miles to the west. The difference was that the one singing the old song remembered the words, and he did so as mournfully as if he had been there the day they were written.


	2. Chapter One

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **The mystery girl's jumping up and down waving her arms and getting quite excited...I probably shouldn't have mentioned that she's the only original element going on here.

**A/N: **I wasn't going to leave you to suffer for too long, now. :) After this, you can expect updates about once a week, probably a little sooner because I get impatient with myself. Thanks to everyone who's followed, reviewed, and even favorited so far! I didn't expect this nice of a reception for a prologue with nearly no concrete information (heh). Honorable mentions include: **Leilani101**, **Iamnotwhoiam**, **filimeala**, **Snittycakez**, **Haru Eclipse** (x2),** Emily Victoria **(x2), **PouringRain-BlazingStorm **(x2), and **PreRaphaeliteGirl**!

Now, on to the actual story. Enjoy! :)

* * *

**Chapter One**

_**In Which There is Much in the Way of Distressing**_

She woke much later than intended in the morning, a couple hours past dawn. Slightly disgruntled with herself but figuring the extra rest was good for her limbs, which were tired already as she acclimatized to staying on the move again, she concluded that she might reach the Brandywine around nightfall instead.

A reach into her pack after securing her bedroll produced a package of some rather nice rolls that had been packed for her. The kind-hearted hobbits had insisted on her taking as much food as she could carry, and she wouldn't have to set traps for her dinner for several more nights. The breads were rather squished but no worse for the wear, and she savored one as she began to walk. The culinary style of the hobbits reminded her a bit of that of the dwarves, but with a lightness almost reminiscent of elven fare. At any rate, the hobbits were less intimidating than either race, and not just because she was taller than all of them.

The day was largely uneventful, but excitement certainly found her soon enough, if one could call it that.

She was approaching the fringes of the Old Forest as dusk began to fall, thinking she must be getting close to the bridge now, when she rounded a corner and spotted a flicker in the trees off to the right of the road up ahead of her. It was difficult to see in the not-quite-dimness, but her young, sharp eyes told her that it was something much bigger than a hare or squirrel yet didn't move like something she could hunt, like a stag. She continued on as if she had seen nothing, and was just beginning to think that her imagination was working overtime from being on the road again when something—no, someone—definitely ducked behind a tree on the left, just across from where she had seen the first movement.

Sighing lightly, she was rudely reminded that danger was everywhere. She had been waylaid by bandits before and knew how to handle such sticky situations. It was a good thing that she had been taught more or less how to fight before she had set out traveling years ago, because while she didn't appear particularly wealthy, she did look like an easy target. Traveling openly as a woman didn't help.

It was usually best to play dumb, so she jumped exaggeratedly when a particularly uncouth-looking Man sprang from the foliage to her left.

"Good evening," she said unsteadily.

"Isn't it, though?" replied the stranger conversationally. "And it'll stay that way if you hand over any valuables you're carrying."

"Or else?" she prompted, resisting the urge to try to make herself seem larger that she tended to get around tall people.

"Or else, well…" Three more would-be robbers appeared out of the woods. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of—" he paused creepily—"arrangement."

_Oh, Valar. Blech. I'll come to an arrangement, all right_, she thought in revulsion. Harassment aside, she didn't need any more unnecessary delays. "In that case, I'm afraid I'll have to refuse." She shifted her feet apart slightly, and the distance between her lithe fingers and a sheath on her belt concealed by her overcoat began to decrease.

"How disappointing. Your loss," the leader shrugged, nodding to his companions with confidence. They moved towards the traveler menacingly from her left, right, and back.

The foot-and-a-half-long dagger - nearly a short sword - at her waist came out faster than any of them were expecting, and she opened a nasty cut across the palm of the one who reached for her first. "I beg to differ," she snapped, and drove her foot sideways into the stomach of the one approaching from the left.

The third tried to grab her arms and pull them behind her back, but she slammed a backhanded fist into his nose as payment for his efforts. (It was a blind hit, so it was quite a good shot, but she was practiced in the art of dispatching bandits.)

Contrary to popular belief, thieves are not often seriously skilled in the ways of combat. Fear is a powerful weapon, and with the right targets, bandits can thus become quite successful. It also helps if they can use, for example, a knife in proper ways, so as to back up their threats with some substance. Then there was the whole repulsive matter of overpowering women, when they were on rare occasion found on the road.

This particular woman had traveled alone on the road for years and had more than enough confidence to match. She had learned to fight at a level that was hardly elementary. In each of her boots was a dagger, and another one was strapped to her right forearm. Her fourth and longest was in her slender but deft hand. She stood much shorter than the men, and wasn't afraid to fight dirty to make up the difference.

In short, the bandits didn't stand a chance.

The last one standing hadn't yet realized that he was now alone, and just before she got a headlock on him, he grabbed a chunk of her long hair and yanked hard. She let out an involuntary scream and let go of him by reflex, cursing aggressively. Fortunately she knew to roll quickly away, and when he lunged for her, she used his weight against him to flip him over her with her powerful legs. Before he knew what was happening, she hooked an arm around his neck and struck him swiftly on the temple with the hilt of her dagger. He fell unconscious, just as the woman's ears picked up a sudden noise from around the curve in the road.

Running footsteps, and lots of them.

Great, they'd been traveling in a posse. Unusual, but just her luck. Now she was in for it. She drew the dagger in her left boot and braced herself, but experienced a moment of indecision when she saw who came thundering around the bend.

Now, let us back up a few moments and a few hundred yards. Around that time, as I am sure you've guessed by now, there was another journey under way on the Great East Road. And while this journeying Company had just recently gained a Burglar, they had also taken on a great deal of complaints from the rear of the group. First it was the handkerchief, followed by innumerable points on which to gripe and whine, and it was making no one happy. In short, anyone not a dwarf was the subject of many glares, mental curses, and general discontented mutterings all around.

And now the Burglar couldn't stay on his dratted pony.

Apparently there was some issue with poor Myrtle's girth strap, because if the hobbit wasn't inching off over one side of the pony, he was unexpectedly taking a dive off the other side. Eventually the quite exasperated Company was forced to stop just before they came to a bend in the road. The trees were thickening, contributing to the growing darkness as the sun began to set on the first maddeningly delay-filled day of the journey. They would have to stop before too long to make camp, but no one was satisfied with what little progress that they had made that day, so they planned to continue on for some time that night. The constant stopping was making all the dwarves antsy, especially the more energetic ones. Kíli and Fíli were becoming increasingly twitchy, Dwalin was keeping up a steady stream of grumbles, and Óin had abandoned his ear trumpet in favor of the blissfulness of peace and quiet. Kind old Balin was busy offering his help in aiding the pony and hobbit, and Bofur hovered about them sharing all the possible stories he could dredge up about people dying unpleasant deaths due to falling from horseback until Gandalf dismounted and shooed him out of the way.

That was when they heard the scream, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a string of curses.

Kíli and Fíli, having the sharpest senses and arguably the nimblest pairs of legs, were the first to snap their heads in the direction of the sound and leap off their ponies, hitting the ground running. They were, after all, dwarves of honor, and not about to ignore what had unmistakably been the cry of a damsel in distress. Dwalin cursed and took off not half a second later, although he would swear later that it was only to "keep the rash lads out of trouble, charging ahead blindly like they did." Thorin was close behind, being the leader and all and needing to know what was happening in these sorts of situations, despite maintaining an air of being unhurried and dignified.

The scene that met them was not quite what they had been expecting, nor were they what the traveler had anticipated. She was surprised to see that they were not Men, but dwarves, and they looked rather taken by surprise and rather unlike a band of robbers. Still, she kept a tight hold on her weapons as the first two skidded to an abrupt halt not twenty feet away.

They didn't look threatening; they just looked confused. Actually, she realized, the blonde and brunette were rather striking. They couldn't have been much older than her, but her impressions were quickly overtaken by the sheer sizes of the two dwarves who nearly ran straight into the others' backs. One's head was half shaven and—were those tattoos?—he was gripping a truly massive war hammer. She couldn't get a good look at the other until he stepped around the dumbstruck blonde and addressed her in a deep, commanding voice.

"May we be of service? We heard a commotion from down the road," he explained, somehow managing to sound like he just wanted to know what she'd done and could care less about what service he could provide.

As it was, none of the dwarves had quite recuperated from trying to figure out just who was standing in front of them in the midst of four unconscious Men. Thorin had simply been the first to recover from this bout of inner turmoil. Although their exact trains of thought varied, the general consensus was at first: another dwarf! Then: a female dwarf? But of course not: a very short human female. But no: a dwarf after all? But she had no beard: she couldn't possibly be a dwarf. Yet her proportions were dwarven - mostly - although something about her was not quite right.

"No, I, ah…" She (for that was what they were all agreed on, if nothing else) eyed the would-be robbers on the ground. "I ran into a bit of a problem, but it was no matter. Thank you, all the same. Eisa, at your service." She bowed quickly, nearly ninety degrees, in a practiced fashion.

"Fíli—"

"—and Kíli—"

"—at yours," chorused the two young ones promptly, returning the bow. They were nothing if not raised properly, even if they were more than slightly bewildered at the moment.

"Dwalin, at your service," said the large, gruff one. In his mind, he was going into a slight panicked rant about beardless dwarf women and why in Dúrin's name one was wandering around alone on the road, but no one else needed to know about that.

"Thorin Oakenshield," said the ray of sunshine. "And excuse me for my bluntness, but what exactly is your business out here? You should not be alone."

Something told the dwarf maiden—Eisa, in fact—that it was highly unlikely that he would ever seriously ask to be excused. "Out here? On the road, do you mean? Well, I've just come from the Shire, but I've no idea what my next business will be, to be quite honest." While her voice was low, she was more an alto than the tenor or baritone that she should have been, if the rest of the women of her assumed race were anything to go by.

"I see," he uttered, although he probably didn't even want to see at all.

In fact, they were all four not just literally seeing but gawking at her, some looks more ill-concealed than others, but confounded all the same. It wasn't because of her stunning beauty or anything like that; Eisa knew that they were just busy trying to figure out what in Aulë's name she _was_. That wasn't a modest interpretation; it was just a fact that despite being rather unremarkable in the face as far as any race's standards went, her appearance was rather odd. In a way it was convenient, for astonishingly beautiful women traveling alone were both a target on the road and a cause for suspicion among most bewitchment-fearing folks.

"Yes. Well." The stares from the young pair were actually becoming a little unnerving. "What is your business, if I may ask? Surely you're not just waiting by the side of the road to assist women in need," Eisa half-joked dryly. Her accent was entirely that of the common tongue of Men.

"We travel east. Our business is our own."

That was really all she'd been expecting. It was fair, of course, to reveal little to strangers.

"If you don't mind my asking," the young brunette dwarf piped up in a pleasant voice, "what is your lineage? I'm sure none of us have seen anyone…like you, before."

He was trying to be tactful, which she appreciated. "I am the daughter of Auda, though I never knew her."

Apparently he didn't comprehend her subliminal intent, because he went to open his mouth again and she knew what he would ask next. However, before he could say anything else, the blonde elbowed him in the ribs and gave him a look. Eisa wondered suddenly if they were related, seeing that they almost looked alike and shuffled their feet the same way. Either that or they were shieldbrethren, based on the way their body language revolved around each other.

On the other hand, Dwalin and Thorin had gotten the message loud and clear. It had been a loaded sentence to their practiced ears. She had identified by her mother, which according to custom meant that her sire was unknown. There were exceptions, as in those of royal blood; for example, Kíli and Fíli were called the sons of Dís because it was through her that they held their claim to the throne. But this young woman clearly was no sort of royalty. In addition, she had stated outright that she had never known the woman who gave birth to her. So to put it quite bluntly, she was a bastard child.

Just as the silence began to stretch to the point of awkwardness, another group of dwarves plus one very tall, old human—he looked like a wizard!—rounded the bend in the road, though much slower than their companions had.

"Oi! What's all this, then?" one of them called out. He was leading two ponies, and was wearing a hat that made him look as though he had enormous, floppy ears.

"A traveler," replied the serious one who was clearly in charge, "though no longer one in trouble."

"Miss Eisa," supplied the two young dwarves in unison.

"At your service," she picked up without missing a beat, bowing to the rest of the Company. There were more than a few blinks and disbelieving looks exchanged as they all realized that they had just encountered a female dwarf.

"There are _more?_" squeaked a voice from the back indignantly.

* * *

**A/N: **Just wanted to mention that her name is pronounced "EYE-sah." In Norse mythology, Eisa was the daughter of Loki, the trickster god of fire, and one of his consorts, Glut, whose name means "glow." Therefore, Eisa means "embers." WOOHOO. Someone did her research xD


	3. Chapter Two

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **I hath burgled no copyrights.

**A/N: **I'll be honest, this bit ended up being disappointingly short due to me having to split the chapter up. (Review anyway? Yes?) I'll update again by/on the weekend so as to appease you and your potential torches and pitchforks! (Been through this before, I see...hehe.)

Thanks to glorious new followers, much-adored favoriters, and illustrious reviewers including the lovely repeat offenders which I mean in a very caring way: **myshka**, **BloodBlackAlchemist**, **Kili's girl forever** (woohoo! the penname says it all xD), **awhi107**, **sk8trchick**, **rdykzeul**, ** .ness **(oh it's too late for that xD), **Long Live the Slayer**, **Eitheline**, **i am a Fire-jay**, **izzybr**, **mcgonagiggles **(that is epic), **Lift the Wings**, **filimeala**, **Haru Eclipse**, and **Leilani101**!

Yes, you get a recap of the last line of Chapter One. Because Bilbo is too precious for words. Enjoy!

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**Chapter Two**

_**In Which the Journey Begins (Again)**_

"There are _more?_" squeaked a voice from the back indignantly.

"Come come, my dear Bilbo," chided the wizard, for he was one indeed. "She is merely a traveler—and a capable one too, by the looks of it," he chuckled, raising a bushy eyebrow at the heaps of human around the dwarf maiden.

"Oh, er, right." Eisa suddenly remembered that she should probably get the would-be robbers out of the middle of the road. "I'll just get rid of this mess…" Hooking her arms under those of the closest one, she began to drag him off to the side.

The young ones shared a glance. "We can help," they offered, speaking as one again.

"Oh, thank you. Sorry about that." And at the moment (never mind that she was in the process of hauling an unconscious Man across the road) she was appreciating more than their assistance. They were indeed an attractive pair: all intense eyes, easy smiles, and strong limbs. When she handled her burden with relative ease, they looked surprised, but she ignored them. Being a dwarf, after all, meant being unnaturally strong for one's size.

"Well, what now?" Dwalin was busy muttering to Thorin.

"What do you mean, 'what now'? Let's get a move on," groused the king, by now altogether fed up with queer folk that caused delays.

"We can't just leave the lass all alone out here," his old friend protested.

"Oh yes we can. She appears to be able to handle herself. And even if she can't, I am tiring quickly of strange encounters with strange—" he glanced at the one in question, not even pretending to be stealthy— "beings, and we are rapidly losing time."

"Would you mind terribly if I just walked along with all of you for a bit?" Eisa spoke up just then, a bit unsure who exactly to address and settling for raising her voice slightly. "I'm going east as well, though I'm not quite sure where…" she trailed off lamely. Normally she didn't feel any particular need for traveling companions, but curiosity was getting the better of her, and she wondered what the group's purpose was and where they planned to venture. They were such an odd bunch, after all.

"You won't be able to keep up," Thorin stated blandly.

She shrugged indifferently. "As you say."

The king—though of course Eisa hadn't the faintest idea who he was—grunted and mounted his pony, kicking it into a trot for a few paces to make his point.

As the Company began to move again, Eisa struck up a brisk walk, the long sleeveless coat that she wore as her outermost layer fanning out behind her. She fell into step alongside the wizard, a position that seemed like the safest bet. "Are you by any chance a wizard, sir?" she asked him politely, just to be sure.

"I am indeed; well done, Miss Eisa," he smiled from beneath an incredibly battered old pointed hat that looked as though it had seen better days.

"Then you must be Gandalf the Grey," she concluded. "I've heard many good things about you. Most recently about your fireworks, in fact. They're quite famous in the Shire, although I'm sure you already know that," she chuckled, remembering the excitable hobbit children's wild imitations of the colorful explosions.

Gandalf was about to reply when a voice piped up from behind them. "Fireworks? The Shire? What's this about, Gandalf?"

"Ah, of course. Come alongside me, Mr. Baggins, and say hello to our traveling companion." The wizard flapped a hand as if encouraging the hobbit not to be afraid of the reins.

"Baggins…" echoed Eisa thoughtfully. "Oh, of course! Bag End! Hello again, Mr. Baggins." She waved cheerfully over the back of Gandalf's pony.

"Oh. Miss Eisa," Bilbo realized with relief. Before, he hadn't been able to catch sight of her around Bombur. "Pleasure seeing you again."

"Same to you, my good hobbit. I must say, your home was my favorite, out of all the hobbit-holes I saw." Her stay in the Shire had included many a merry gathering, and she remembered the venue of Bad End with fondness, though she and Bilbo hadn't had more than a few short one-on-one conversations. "Wonderfully furnished and always a fire going, not to mention the finest-stocked larder for miles around."

Bilbo had begun to sit up a bit straighter in his saddle, despite his relative misery, but slumped down a good several inches at her last comment. Sudden roars of guilty but shameless laughter from just ahead of them cut off Eisa's remark of concern.

It was Fíli and Kíli, who naturally had been eavesdropping the entire time. Bilbo started to sulk thoroughly.

"Not anymore, it isn't," snickered the blonde.

"Can't imagine how it happened," cackled the brunette.

"These—this pack of—of ruffians—pillaged my pantry before our departure," explained Bilbo, in a good huff now. "And what _these_ two hooligans started—with the plates—and the—hmph." He set to grumbling to himself.

"What did he call us?" the brunette mock gasped, clapping a hand to his chest. Suddenly Eisa lost track of which was Fíli and which was Kíli.

"We had nothing to do with it. It was all of them," accused the blonde with wide-eyed innocence.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure," Eisa snorted to herself. "You'll have to forgive me, but I've just forgotten which one of you is which."

The two shared a conspiratorial look. "Guess," they chorused.

"You must be related," she went on, scrutinizing their handsome faces again.

"If you guess right, maybe we'll tell you," teased the blonde.

"Fair enough. Mm, let's see." She wrinkled her nose and tried to remember which one had spoken which name before. It didn't matter much whether she was right or wrong, but she did pride herself on being good with names, since she had learned so many in short periods of time on her many travels.

As she thought, the brothers were in turn studying her closely. Her mostly straight hair was a medium brown, and the locks at either side of her face hung down in narrow braids, those higher up woven back to join together at the back of her head. It was an acceptable style for a dwarf, serving to keep her long, ridiculously thick tresses out of her face. Her muddy eyes were set on either side of a strong, stubborn nose, and she had a solid, square jaw: all typical of Aulë's race, males and females alike.

All this looked perfectly natural on a dwarf. However, little details about her facial structure were just too delicate, and could betray her as being, well, unnatural. Her cheekbones were too defined, her mouth too full and soft around the edges.

Not to mention that she had no dratted beard. She would have looked fine for a human, Kíli and Fíli supposed, but she was not one, so her face just looked empty. It was downright unnerving.

"You look more like a Kíli," said dwarf declared just then, raising her eyebrows at the brunette to the right, "and you more like a Fíli." She nodded at the blonde to the left.

"I don't know," mused Fíli. "I've always thought I'd make a more handsome Kíli."

"But Brother," grinned the real Kíli, "you _are_ Kíli."

"You mean _you're_ Fíli? All this time, I've been deceived."

"Unless of course we only switched them twice last week instead of thrice."

"You make a valid point."

Eisa's head became steadily more tilted to the side as she listened, eventually pulling a face and looking to Gandalf for guidance, who was now riding just behind her.

The wizard chortled. "You were correct, Miss Eisa. On the left is Fíli, and on the right is Kíli."

"That's a relief. And they're brothers, besides," she muttered. "Oh, and please, you can just call me Eisa. I'm no one special," she tsked, turning to eye Bilbo as well. "And speaking of which, I'd very much like to know everyone else's names. I might have run into someone's friends or relations on my travels." It wasn't exactly difficult to figure out who was related to whom, after all, solely through the continuity of names.

Gandalf obliged, pointing out each dwarf in turn as she craned her neck to see around all the ponies. Attempting to come up with ways to keep them all straight, she furrowed her brow as she tried to repeat the names to herself and found it to be quite the chore.

Kíli, meanwhile, had not stopped watching the mysterious dwarf.

His brother brought his pony closer and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Oi. Kíli. It isn't as if you've never seen a dwarf maid before."

"Obviously," the younger brother retorted dryly. "But honestly. You can't tell me—" he glanced around them and drew even closer, leaning his head in— "you can't tell me that that's the only blood in her veins."

"How so?" Fíli had thought as much as well, but he wanted to hear his brother's take on the matter.

"Well, just look at her. I mean, aside from having not a damn trace of facial hair, which…" He did a sort of uneven, uncomfortable shrug.

"I know. It's just not natural," Fíli agreed, matching his brother's low voice. "She doesn't look quite like one of us. And she all but admitted herself that she hasn't a clue who her father is—or was, for that matter."

"What if it was a Man? Is that even possible? Because that could explain a bit," Kíli suggested.

"Or maybe she's full dwarf, only there was some strange variation in the bloodline a bit farther back. Oddities like that can skip generations and whatnot. Besides, you know how it was when our people were driven out of Erebor. It was absolute chaos."

"True. Who knows where some of us might have ended up, or with whom?"

"That's a bit disturbing. I didn't think that could even happen."

It was around that time that they crossed over the Brandywine Bridge, and Thorin looked back to survey the Company. Upon seeing no small figure striding alongside Gandalf, he felt satisfied, having gotten rid of the potential hazard. Then he noticed that the supplies contents of the spare pony had been redistributed. It seemed to be in favor of a certain small figure now leaping up into the saddle with no assistance and more ease than her dwarven frame should have allowed. The king refrained from groaning aloud as Bofur struck up a conversation with the young woman. There would be no getting out of this; he could feel it. And it was bad luck to travel with a woman. He was certain that disaster would come of it if she stayed with them for too long.


	4. Chapter Three

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **I can only dream :D

**A/N: **A weekend update, as promised! :) A bit longer, because I can't get enough of the line of Dúrin. First off, a belated thanks to **beware. mad.**** ness **(minus the spaces) after the site so skillfully omitted most of their penname in my last A/N. Hehe. Whoops. Otherwise, virtual sending of the cupcakes I made the other day to: **ReddyDevil**, **EvilPurpleCookiePenkeyMongui n**, **lightning-inspiration**, **catalunya-triomfant**, **Ms. Fairweather**, **allucinatoris**, **ToxicSoap04**, **XxxBellaBellaxxX**, **Hakoiri**, **PouringRain-BlazingStorm **(oh why thank you, glad to hear it!), and **ohmyfickleheart**!

Also, Happy St. Patrick's Day! Enjoy and please review!

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**Chapter Three**

_**In Which We Learn a Bit About Dwarf Royalty**_

By the time night had truly fallen and the stars were beginning to appear, Eisa was still with the Company. Despite having traveled on foot so much, she was fairly comfortable on horseback, gaining her a bit of equal ground among the dubious dwarves. When they stopped for the night—or rather, the bossy one called Thorin ordered everyone imperiously that they were to stop for the night—she pointedly set down her things on the outer fringes of the area. Conversation or no along the road, she didn't want to give the impression that she was butting in on anything, whatever this journey that they were on was. And apparently, since Thorin hadn't said anything, she couldn't get a peep out of any of the other dwarves, or wizard, or hobbit for that matter, about the nature of their travels.

_What's the trouble with telling little old me what they're up to? Probably on a holiday to visit all their great-aunts, or something perfectly harmless like that,_ she thought with a bit of irritation as she realized that she desperately needed to relieve herself. _Drat all these men. Now I'll have to—urgh._

"I'll be back shortly, and if somebody disturbs me I assure you it will not turn out well for anyone," she informed Gandalf before tromping off into the woods.

The moment she was out of earshot (or so they guessed), Thorin rounded on Gandalf. "Why do you encourage her?" he hissed. "Just because she is a female wandering alone—we are not a charity service! There is already one stray too many to look after." He cast a baleful glance across the makeshift campsite to where Bilbo was watching Bombur and Bofur ready the fire for dinner.

"The lass is hardly helpless, I think," Balin pointed out practically.

"Then let us be rid of her at the next crossroads. A few lightly armed bandits are not an orc pack," snapped Thorin.

"But Thorin," Gandalf put in pensively, "should it not be in your people's custom to try to protect such women? Surely you cannot feel right about just leaving her off somewhere."

"Our people," scoffed the king. "Do not speak of her as if she is one of us. I don't know what she is and I don't care to know. Such things can only bring trouble."

"For goodness' sake." The wizard waved a hand dismissively. "Her blood is at least half dwarven. Have you not seen her?" Thorin made to open his mouth, most likely to let fly with a demeaning observation regarding that particular matter, but Gandalf pressed on. "The child cannot help how she was born."

"Oh, now she's a child. Even better," Thorin muttered.

"Young and inexperienced, if I might," Dwalin suggested. "Not unlike…others," he hedged, glancing at Fíli and Kíli, who were as usual not far from the center of the action.

"_We_ think she's interesting," Fíli told Thorin as Kíli shrugged. "If nothing else."

"Yes, you two seemed unduly _interested_ on the ride here," Thorin groused.

"Oh, don't be a stick-in-the-mud, Uncle," Kíli wheedled, unruffled.

It was at this point that Eisa began making her way back to the camp from behind a rather large tree. Obviously they had been speaking of her, but only now could she make out the exact words of the conversation. Actually, it was sounding increasingly like an argument. She slowed her steps and paused, still out of sight.

"It's driving us all mad having to remember not to speak of the quest," Fíli added. "And anyway—"

"—what's the harm?"

"The harm," Thorin cut in exasperatedly, sensing that he was being outvoted as his nephews began to finish each other's sentences, "is that there are people out there who will spy for whomever they will, provided they are handsomely compensated."

"But you have told no one beyond your kin of your quest," Gandalf sighed, "and unless that has been compromised, that possibility is highly unlikely. I am implying nothing—" he held up his hands at the deepening of the crease between Thorin's eyebrows— "I am simply stating logic."

"However, it's true that no one knows a thing about her," Dwalin considered. "We cannot be sure of anything."

"Why don't we ask our Burglar?" Balin spoke up. "Supposedly she spent a time with the hobbits, and Mr. Baggins was somewhat acquainted with her."

Eisa chose to recommence stomping through the undergrowth then. If they were debating whether she could be trusted or not, as it sounded, she didn't want to encourage the leader's clear negative opinion of her by being caught eavesdropping. "Excuse me." She held up a placating hand as they all became aware of her presence. The young brothers had been facing her way, and looked the least surprised. "Sorry. Didn't want to eavesdrop. It's just that asking Mr. Baggins about me isn't going to get you very far."

"And what do you mean by that?" Thorin glared at her from under his brows.

"I mean that I travel intelligently," she sighed. "I don't like personal questions, and I certainly don't run about telling everyone the details of my life. Go ahead and try, though, by all means. But that still doesn't make me a spy. Just a wanderer with an unhealthy dose of curiosity." She raised her eyebrows a fraction.

Fíli had the sudden urge to poorly conceal something like "outclassed" with a cough, but suppressed it.

"Indeed," was Thorin's ground-out response. With an authoritative tilt of his head, he warned her not-so-subtly, "I will still be watching."

"Me too," murmured Fíli suggestively as the brothers turned away together, seeing that Eisa was shrugging off their uncle's temperament rather nicely, all things considered.

Kíli was the only one who heard him. "Brother!" he admonished jokingly, grinning. "Though she isn't all that attractive."

"No," his counterpart agreed. "But interesting, I suppose. And you know I'm not being serious," he snorted.

"You? Not serious? Perish the thought." Kíli settled against the hollowed-out cliffside where the campfire was now blazing. Beside it, Bofur was occupied by swatting his brother's hands away from the soon-to-be-stew, so the usually perceptive dwarf observed nothing amiss about the camp other than Thorin's typical blustering. Which he was well accustomed to by this time. And the others previously surrounding Thorin had tactfully wandered off as the king continued to attempt to assert his dominance over the stranger.

So far, it wasn't working.

However, Eisa hadn't shown up to disrupt anyone—she just didn't appreciate being eyed as if she might explode—so she was perfectly polite to the leader of the dwarves, even if she was currently engaged in an intense staring contest with him. "May I share your fire tonight, sir?" she asked, as was appropriate, bowing her head slightly out of demonstrated respect but refusing to break eye contact.

Finally he rumbled, "That will be acceptable, for now."

"Thank you. I appreciate it," she replied gratefully. After another second or two, she sensed that she was being dismissed but felt the need to say something more. "You know," she began slowly, feeling as though she needed to clarify something, though she wasn't quite sure what it was yet. "I really am just curious. I've never had a destination in mind, or known what I was doing, or—no, I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I just don't want to cause problems."

He half-grunted as though that was all the effort he could spare for her last words, but surprised her when she went to walk past him. "You might do well to speak with Fíli and Kíli, as long as you are with us. They are closer to you in age, I should guess, and good lads." He didn't know what made him say it. Perhaps he just wanted to keep her away from as much of his Company as possible. Perhaps he hoped that his exuberant nephews would somehow deter her from continuing on with them.

These all made absolutely no sense, of course, and he was suddenly sure that he would regret it later.

"Right. Okay." Eisa paused, but gave a mental shrug and continued walking. "Thank you." It was clear that the Company on the whole did not approve of outsiders, but she should have known that from her previous experience with dwarves. That made sense, she supposed. But although she wasn't exactly planning on becoming bosom friends with any of the group, she would never object to being friendly with a pair of jokesters.

She spotted the two young dwarves sitting close to the fire, as Bofur and Bifur—oh, bother, which was the jolly one again?—bustled around trying to save most of the supper-in-progress from Bombur's hands. Fíli and Kíli looked like they were deep in conversation, and she decided it might be more prudent to approach them with a question or two (because several would certainly arise before long) instead of a "hello" and an awkward pause. So she tried not to breathe through her nose in an attempt to avoid tantalizing her stomach, and took a seat next to Gandalf, where she had plopped her pack earlier.

"Is he always this friendly?" she asked dryly under her breath.

"Don't take it personally," Gandalf advised, taking a draw from his pipe.

"No, I'm not, it's just…" Eisa pursed her lips. "I guess I just found it strange. People usually look at me in an odd way because I don't look normal, but I understand that," she explained flippantly. "I'm usually not greeted with such suspicion, or accusations of spying of all things. What _is_ there to spy on? The stew?"

"Well. Thorin is a fairly important dwarf, so I suppose he must be suspicious of everyone for a while when he meets them," the wizard said vaguely. "Besides, you probably unnerve him," he chuckled, blowing an impressive smoke ring that remained perfectly round despite the slight breeze.

"Mm. And I'm clearly also very intimidating." Eisa shook her head, and a thought landed unexpectedly in the forefront of her mind. "He has seen a lot of life, hasn't he."

"You noticed," was all that Gandalf said.

She couldn't really describe it, but there was something about Thorin's brooding looks that reminded her of the way that those with a lot of responsibility riding on their shoulders watched everyone defensively, as though they were daring someone to remind them of the magnitude of the task that lay ahead. As though there was a heavy cloud bearing down over them, and they were really just waiting for it to begin to rain. And there was something about the way the rest of the Company looked at him with a respect and awe that made her feel as though they had all become accustomed to doing so over the years, especially Dwalin and Balin (now those two she could keep straight).

A sneeze interrupted her thoughts as well as her inadvertent stare at Thorin's back. It was Bilbo, a few yards away on Gandalf's opposite side, and he was muttering peevishly about handkerchiefs.

Brilliant; she had something to ask of Fíli and Kíli.

"Pardon me." She excused herself from Gandalf, and sidled over past the fire. She settled a few feet from Kíli, who had been more willing to converse with her earlier, relatively speaking.

"Hello." Kíli surprised her by speaking first.

"How can we help you?" Fíli picked up, clearly more willing to do so when not directly under the watchful eye of Thorin.

"Well. I wanted to ask something and thought you might be the best to answer it," Eisa began.

"Ask away," invited Kíli.

"First off: why in Arda is _Bilbo Baggins_ of all people along with all of you?" The tip-offs that the poor hobbit was far out of his comfort zone were infinite.

Fíli snorted hard and bit back a laugh, but Kíli went right ahead and loosed several chuckles.

"What? It's a valid…" She trailed off, the corners of her mouth irrepressibly curving up at their smiles.

"No, it's just the way you said it," Kíli chortled. He was quite handsome when he laughed, really.

"Ah, that was a good one," Fíli agreed, grinning. "Well, to be honest, we're not all completely sure. Gandalf was…convinced he should join us on our journey."

"But…_why?_" she repeated, making them both laugh again at her bewildered expression. "I'm being serious, it doesn't make the slightest bit of sense! Have you heard the poor hobbit going on about his armchair? And handkerchiefs? And tea and biscuits?"

Kíli groaned. "Who hasn't? I think they've heard him all the way to Ered Luin."

"Why else do you think everyone's so on edge? Even he doesn't want to be here," Fíli added.

Eisa shifted around to the left to better face them, now that they were warming up to her a bit more. Perhaps Thorin had been right, even if she was a bit disinclined to trust his word; they did seem like good lads. And handsome. Definitely very handsome. Although that wasn't the point. "Well that's just absurd. What a group this Company is." She shook her head in amusement. "Oh, but speaking of which—could you run everyone's names by me again? I keep losing track of the B's and G's and O's and everything in between."

"Certainly," said Fíli. "First off, Fíli and Kíli." He pointed to himself and his brother exaggeratedly.

"Yes, I think I have that one." Eisa nodded sagely. "I might forget it, though,"

"And the next best looking is Thorin, because clearly it's in our blood," Kíli put in.

Eisa blinked, dutifully ignoring the actual meaning of what he had said. "You're related?" She tried to match up the stern dwarf's facial features with those of the two younger ones.

Fíli was too late in kicking his brother to keep him quiet, and sighed. "Yes. He's our uncle."

"And you're brothers." They nodded in sync, and a smile pulled at her mouth. "Are you also twins?"

"No, I'm older," said Kíli with a suspiciously straight face.

"You liar." Fíli rolled his eyes. "I'm older."

"By five whole years," the younger scoffed.

"It's alright, you probably still have seniority over me," Eisa heard herself say. _Oh, bugger. Well, that certainly wasn't a bright move._

"Oh?" Kíli said loftily with a grin that Eisa didn't entirely understand. "How old are you, then?"

"I'm fifty…two," she hesitated. If either of the brothers noticed her slight stumble, they didn't comment on it. The truth was that she wasn't sure exactly how old she was. She was fairly sure that the year was right, and almost certain of the month, but she had had to make up her own birthday.

"Well I'm eighty-two," Fíli told her conspiratorially, "and this one's seventy-seven. You've a ways to go yet. We're the youngest dwarves here, but only by—oh, yes, the names. Of course," he remembered, and pointed a dwarf out. "There's Ori; he's fairly young too." Eisa had known his name; he was the small one who always looked a bit confused and had a tendency to pull at his knitted gloves nervously.

"And Nori and Dori and—" Kíli began to rattle off helpfully.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow do—" Eisa waved her hands at him.

"Come and get it!" Bifur (_Bofur? Oh, confound it_) announced loudly a few yards away, effectively distracting everyone.

The dwarves all rushed to retrieve their bowls, but Eisa moved in the opposite direction, locating her pack and beginning to rummage through it for some of the dried meat she'd been given by the Shire-folk.

"And what are you doing, lass?" came a voice from behind her and a bit closer to the ground.

She turned to regard Balin, his bushy white eyebrows raised and a knowing smile forming beneath his enormous hooked nose. He should have been looking over a pair of spectacles, she thought. "Having supper?" Somehow, it came out as a question.

"Then why don't you take a bowl?" he asked, giving her the distinct impression that she was being tested.

"Oh, no, I couldn't," she realized. "Thank you for offering, but I wouldn't feel right. I'm not a part of this Company, after all, and I have plenty of provisions with me."

The old dwarf looked at her for a moment longer, then shrugged and turned away, still smiling secretively. "Suit yourself then, Miss Eisa."

She opened her mouth to correct him, but the words "Just Eisa, please" died in her throat and she mumbled something before returning to her spot by the fire.

Thorin had, in fact, been watching the whole thing out of the corner of his eye, but made no comment as he settled down with his bowl of stew, the first to be served.

This time, Fíli and Kíli plonked down on either side of her, pleasing her. Even if she didn't plan to stay for long, it was nice to get on well with the ones she was traveling with.

"Mm. Now, Dori'sh th' gray hair an' Nori'sh th' red," Kíli went on with his mouth half full as though he had been uninterrupted.

Eisa nodded. "Okay." She peered at Nori, realizing upon further inspection that his eyebrows were actually braided up into his outrageous three-pointed hairstyle. Fíli, meanwhile, was giving his manners-lacking little brother an admonishing look behind Eisa's back, jerking his head at her in significance. "What about Bifur and Bofur, which is which?" she asked, pretending not to notice.

"Bofur is the one with the hat," Fíli provided, needing no further elaboration. "Bifur's mostly mute, by the way—I mean, I don't know if you'll ever have the occasion to have a conversation, but—anyway, he can only speak in Khu—Dwarvish, and, well, we—he doesn't do that around—strangers." He stuttered his way through the sentence, steadily losing traction.

Eisa knew what he was sugar-coating. She was fully aware that dwarves never spoke their own language in front of other races, if they could help it. It had been a real struggle for her to learn what she had, just because of the inherent xenophobia of dwarves. Other than her, she supposed, since she was always the outsider and had no quarrel with much of anybody. "Of course," she soothed, trying to smooth over the awkward moment. "Let's see, who else… Dwalin and Balin, that's obvious. Bombur… Oh yes, Óin and…Glóin?" she tested, tearing off a strip of meat with her teeth.

Kíli clapped his hands in approval, apparently still incapacitated by mass food consumption. "Well done!" he congratulated, swallowing hard. "Óin has the ear trumpet."

"Ah, so Glóin is the angry-looking one," Eisa nodded in comprehension.

Fíli laughed outright. "That's the impression you got? Isn't Mister Dwalin supposed to be the scary one? Or Uncle?"

"Oh, they don't scare me," Eisa scoffed. "True, I wouldn't want them up against me in a fight, but afraid? No. Not worth it."

Thorin grumbled under his breath across the campsite. The trio was getting along far too well. He'd only meant to make things marginally less awkward for all involved until the girl left them—he fully intended on dropping her off in Bree—not for his nephews to become attached to her. It was like letting them bring home a stray dog, he despaired. Once they named it, there was no letting go.


	5. Chapter Four

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **All I own in this process is the laptop I use and the chocolate that keeps me going.

**A/N: **Back again! Eek, I can't remember the last time I got this many views. Thank you all so much for reading, even if you don't review, because my traffic graph still brings me great joy.

I actually just had a thought, so I thought I'd go ahead and warn you right now that the plot does indeed get off to a "slow" start. It may not seem like much has happened so far for a prologue and three chapters, and that's mostly because I like focusing intently on small moments and significant occurrences (but partially because that makes the chapters somewhat shorter than my usual). Basically, even though I'm somewhat sticking to movie-verse and whatnot, in reality there should be approximately three to four weeks from Hobbiton to Rivendell; I mean, if you look at a map and judge the mileage of a pony and get all technical about it. :P So as a result, I'm going to be doing a bunch of progressive scenes/moments/etc interspersed in that period of time. IT WILL BE A WHILE before the Company gets to the Trollshaws, Radagast, Rivendell, etc, which appears to occur on the second night/third day out of Hobbiton in the movie. Not only would this be temporally illogical, but the bonds and relations between Eisa and the members of the Company require, above all else, time. As does a developing romance. Just my opinion, and it's the way this is going to be written, so I'm putting that out there now. Because I personally have an intense love affair with character development, relationships, and psychology. That may be why I adore writing Thorin so much.

Thanks and virtual brownies (just made them :D and they're nearly gone :D) to: **elamoureux2029**, **ZabuzasGirl**, **Hiding in the Shadow**, **GrimmaulDee**, and **OhBeClever**! To the general reader population: reviews? :) Anything is great. Resist that potential morally obligatory urge to not say anything at all if it isn't nice, if you must. Things working/not working? Honest opinions are always a plus. Anyhoo, onward, since this was a bit long! Enjoy!

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**Chapter Four**

_**In Which a Fairly Important Detail is Understood by Our Heroine**_

-**A couple hours later**-

An unearthly shriek rent the air from far off, startling everyone in the camp. Eisa's eyes snapped open from where they had been drifting shut, and she immediately realized that Bilbo's nearby bedroll was empty.

Her momentary tension eased a bit when she heard his voice coming from where the ponies were grazing, but she still sat up, nerves on edge. "What was that?" Bilbo asked quickly and a bit too loudly.

"Orcs," Kíli answered him gravely. Eisa couldn't see the dwarf from where she was laying, but she knew his voice.

"Orcs?" Bilbo repeated, prancing nervously over to the two brothers, who were still awake and sitting up by the fire.

"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there," Fíli defined nonchalantly, removing his pipe lazily from his mouth. "The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep," picked up Kíli without missing a beat. "Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood," he finished soberly.

Eisa felt a shiver travel up the small of her back. She had encountered orcs before, and it was unrealistic to think that she might never again. But her experiences had been few and far between, not to mention mild for the most part, and she had no wish for them to increase in intensity or frequency. The brothers made it sound as if they knew more than her, and she didn't particularly like what she was hearing.

Bilbo, reflecting her feelings, turned away and looked like he was trying not to pass out. Eisa twined her fingers into her sleeveless, calf-length coat that she had shed in favor of using it as a blanket, now pooled around her waist as she tucked her feet under her. Wonderful; now she was far too awake to just roll over and drift off again.

Then she realized that Fíli and Kíli had shared a glance and were snickering quietly to each other. _Those—erffff!_ she thought unintelligibly, and was about to call them out on their little private jest on poor Bilbo's behalf when Thorin beat her to it.

"You think that's funny?" his deep voice cut in, eradicating all other sounds with spectacular effectiveness. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"W-We didn't mean anything by it," Kíli admitted, casting his eyes to the ground. Eisa watched with fascination, realizing just how in charge Thorin was. His influence practically leaked out his pores, and it made her wonder just who he was; what his story was.

"No, you didn't," Thorin reprimanded him scathingly. "You know nothing of the world." And with that, he stalked off to the edge of the camp, staring off into the distance with his hands clasped behind his back. Bilbo looked, if possible, even more anxious, and shifted from bare foot to bare foot.

Eisa stood and pulled her first, shorter coat around her against the night, intending on returning to the fire both for the warmth and for the company. Propriety in terms of male-female relations be damned if she fell asleep over there and stayed til the morning.

Out of nowhere—Eisa assumed he had been asleep—Balin appeared against the rock face by Fíli. "Don't mind him, laddie," he reassured Kíli. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs." Suddenly, a grim expression took over his normally placid exterior, and he sighed as if readying himself to deliver a speech. "After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thrór tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria," he began, largely for the benefit of the two newcomers.

But Eisa already knew this tale. She had heard it a dozen different ways, most often in the halls of the dwarves of Ered Luin (once they had finally allowed her entry after a good fortnight, of course). It was the most incredible story of her people that she had ever heard, and she rocked back on her heels, anticipating the turns of Balin's account.

Yet there was one crucial detail about this whole situation that she had somehow managed to overlook.

She shivered at the mention of the Defiler, as she always had. Her brows drew together in sadness at the unfitting death of King Thrór at the hands of that abomination, at the very gates of one of the last fallen strongholds of the dwarves.

When Balin spoke of the line of Dúrin, Bilbo threw a glance over his shoulder at Thorin, who must have been either listening intently in his own way or ignoring the group pointedly. "Thráin, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief," the old dwarf went on, his voice nearly breaking. He continued, but Eisa's thoughts were suddenly elsewhere as her brain made a connection that for some odd and unknown reason had failed to form a bridge before.

Thorin. Son of Thráin. Son of Thrór, the last King Under the Mountain.

How could she not have realized that she had recognized the name?

Balin's voice brought her back, for it was suddenly softer. "That is when I saw him." And there was suddenly no doubt as to whom he spoke of as he looked at Thorin's back with pride and joy. "A young dwarf prince, facing down the Pale Orc."

The leaderless army; the solitary stand against his enemy with only the oaken branch that became his namesake; the defeat of Azog the Defiler; the crushing numbers of the dead that they said were too many to even separate orc from dwarf—it all made such perfect sense.

"We few had survived. And I thought to myself then," said the old warrior, his eyes bright, "there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King."

At that moment, the dispossessed king turned about to face the gathering, fixing his dark gaze on them. Eisa recalled distantly that she had found his eyes to be a very deep blue earlier rather than brown or black, and unbidden she found herself rising to her feet along with the rest of the now very much awake dwarves. With her attention riveted on him, she placed her gloved right hand over her heart and gave a slight bow. And for the first time, she respectfully lowered her own eyes as she inclined her head deeply. She was in the back, so no one else noticed, but she knew that the king had seen her gesture.

"And the pale orc?" came Bilbo's voice suddenly, the only one still sitting. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago," Thorin answered as he stalked into the midst of the conversation, moodily as ever but with a venom that was otherwise unfamiliar.

But Eisa had been watching Gandalf, and when she saw who was sharing a concerned and—almost—fearful look with him, she began to understand.

Within a few moments, murmurs of "good night" were heard again and most of the Company settled down again after the brief bout of excitement. Meanwhile, Eisa's usual external calmness had not only abandoned her but dumped her unceremoniously by the side of the road, and bursting to say something, she scuttled over to Fíli's side and thumped down in the dirt next to him. "_That's_ him?!" was what came out in a vehement whisper, her voice cracking.

Fíli and Kíli stared at her in return, cranking their heads all the way around to regard her with disbelief as they comprehended what she was talking about. "You can't tell me you didn't realize?" asked the blonde incredulously.

"No, I honestly… Great Aulë, where has my head been?" Eisa asked of no one in particular, more than a bit appalled at herself. Everything about the leader and his comrades now made sense, all the way down to Thorin's fondness for brooding looks. "I've heard the stories, the songs, but…I should have guessed…" She stumbled over the words. There had to be something about this strange Company that was severely disrupting her internal equilibrium.

In the morning, she was one of the first up. That might or might not have had to do with an interesting predawn dream sequence that had involved multitudes of wild horses chasing each other and resulted in her waking up abruptly with her feet twitching. But whatever the case, her rising early made her seem useful, since she was able to help the chatty Bofur (not to be confused with Bifur, as she was now aware) with breakfast.

Eventually, though, she got a wonderfully shocked face out of him when she admitted she didn't know the first thing about actual cooking.

"But…you're a woman," he stated in confusion. "And a dwarf woman, at that!"

She chuckled humorlessly, silently refusing to elaborate. "Yes, well." She'd done badly enough last night, giving up things about her like her age, and she didn't intend to be backed into any too-inquisitive corners today. "If saying so redeems me at all, I can set a trap anywhere, catch nearly any animal and skin it and have it fit for consumption in a perfectly acceptable manner," she offered.

"No, no, that's just making it worse," groaned Bofur as Eisa shrugged and wiped her fingers on her breeches.

"It's worked well enough for me so far, being on the road."

"Alone, often?" He shot her a glance over the bacon that reminded her a bit too much of the suspiciously knowledgeable wizard for her to be entirely comfortable.

Her shoulders straightened. "Usually." That was all she would say, but thankfully her sudden silence didn't particularly bother the ever-cheerful dwarf.

Once everyone was roused and eating as fast as they could so they could be under way to make up for lost time, Eisa couldn't stop herself from sneaking glances at Thorin. She'd had to remind herself that morning that for the past half a day, she's unknowingly been in the presence of the heir to the greatest kingdom of her - no, _their _race.

Kíli came and sat next to her, and not long after they exchanged good mornings, he picked up on what—or rather, who—the dwarf maiden kept staring at. Just after she caught herself for a fifth time, he coughed significantly, and jerked his head at his uncle when Eisa gave him a questioning look.

"It's not polite to stare, you know," he murmured, raising a dark eyebrow.

Eisa tsked at herself and shook her head a few times, the braids in front of her ears shaking back and forth. "I just can't get over it. It's just…I've heard so much about him, and here he is, trekking across Eriador… I don't even know," she sighed.

"Bit of a shock, I suppose," he nodded, but suddenly sounded a little too understanding, a mite too stiff around the tendons in his neck. They made small talk for the few minutes until they had to pack up camp and get back on the road. But when Kíli stood, he fiddled with his wristguards and muttered something under his breath, low enough so that Eisa didn't hear him. It might have been: "He's much too old for you, anyway."

Eisa didn't hear him, though, and went to reclaim her pony as the Company began to move. She had packed up and been ready to move in an amount of time that quite frankly had alarmed Kíli a little bit—not to mention she'd only been the second one awake—but her nonexistent maintenance levels weren't what made him pause in shock as they began to move along.

The girl had bounded off with quick strides to catch up with her pony, who had apparently concluded that its rider was only a temporary arrangement and was already on the move. Not even using a stirrup, she ran up on its left side, planted a hand on the saddle, and swung up onto its back swift as a Rohirrim, landing lightly and perfectly centered.

One word came to Kíli's mind, and he immediately recoiled from it, disgusted. Under what circumstances could that possibly occur? The probability was nonexistent at best, so he didn't know why _that_ had been his first thought.

Because really, what were the chances of her being a half-elven child?


	6. Chapter Five

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **One does not simply claim ownership to a work as glorious as this.

**A/N: **Well, guess it's time for another chapter! Psst, check out my **deviantart** if you're interested... infamousrun4life. deviantart. com minus the spaces! I have a realism drawing of Eisa up (about a third of the actual drawing since at the time I was having issues with her boots and haven't gotten around to uploading the full view yet) as well as a character design thingy via photography when I was bored. So! By all means please investigate.  
Oh, and urgh, I changed the summary _again_. I keep feeling like it isn't quite getting all my points across. Any thoughts on the matter from those of you who are good at that sort of thing?  
Ice cream sundaes (the most popular local place around me opened today 8D I was _so_ there) for all the lovelies: **ks90**, **chained2love**, **Mizumi-****san**, **papertowel1567**, **Sloefer**, **Ayannaxx**, **MentalX**, **Hiding in the Shadow**, **Kili's girl forever**, **Rae01**, **Sam0728**, **The Dino-tastic Dragon rider**, **AcaciaDawn**, **xAmyKilix**, and **ashleymariestel**! Thank you dears for all your compliments and, of course, just for following along, because that in itself is a reward for me. Enjoy! :)

* * *

**Chapter Five**

_**In Which Nearly Everyone Needs To Lighten Up**_

It didn't take long for the pleasant weather of the day before to turn into a full-on downpour. Everyone was cranky, Dori kept yelling about the deluge and other lengthy words that really just meant a whole lot of rain, and Gandalf was becoming increasingly irritable as it was suggested several times that he try to do something about the weather. Bilbo looked even smaller than usual in his misery, and even the merrier dwarves were silenced after a while.

They drew ever further from populated areas, and as the road became more wild and less traveled, Eisa came to realize that they were now essentially on a one-way route. As soon as this occurred to her, she spurred her pony forward past a few of the others to get to the wizard.

"Mister Gandalf?" she said, biting the inside of her cheek. "Might I have a word?"

"Certainly, my dear," he agreed, and dropped back with her. They weren't far from the end of the line, anyway.

"The thing is, I need to know exactly what route you're planning on taking," Eisa stated firmly.

"East," said the wizard vaguely, knowing she wouldn't be satisfied.

"Are you planning on going anywhere near Rivendell?" she pressed.

Gandalf grumbled suddenly, his brows furrowing. "That would be wise, but certain others do not at all agree with me on that point." He probably would have kept mum on the matter otherwise, but the downpour and dwarves in conjunction were grating on his nerves and loosening his tongue.

"'Others' meaning prejudiced dwarves, am I right?" asked Eisa dryly, surprising herself a bit. She chalked her tactlessness up to the rain as well.

"Mm, perhaps," he rumbled. If he was surprised by her comparative difference of opinion, he didn't show it. "Why do you ask after our course?" He turned to peer at her from under the broad brim of his hat, which was pouring water like a downspout.

"Well, it was a possibility for my next destination, is all," replied Eisa, "and I suppose I'm not entirely opposed to companions, that is, for a bit at least, and, well…" She stopped herself from rambling and shrugged.

"May I tell you something?"

"Of course," she said automatically.

"Most here would not mind in the least if you simply stayed with us for a time," said the wizard bluntly.

"Oh, but I really am used to being alone—"

"Then perhaps you are in need of a respite."

"—and I don't need to weigh anyone down or anything silly like that—"

"You've seemed to get along just fine."

"—and besides it wouldn't be proper, and I have my own agenda—"

"Did you not just say that you were unsure of—"

"—and anyway, 'most' is not all," she finished, having hardly drawn breath regardless of the interruptions.

"Well, Miss Eisa, despite not being the leader of this Company, I am one of the 'most', and what I think is that you are making excuses not to take part in an adventure in the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, though I cannot imagine why," Gandalf scoffed. "Besides," he said in reply to her slightly stunned silence, "I think this group could do well with the company of a young lady to teach them a thing or two."

Eisa snorted loudly, drawing the attention of a few of the dwarves, even though they had kept their voices lowered until then. Yes, because she was such a prime example of the proper dwarf maid.

"Merely consider it, is all I am suggesting." The wizard's blue eyes twinkled.

She smiled wryly. "But it is as you said: you are not the leader here."

"No, I am not," he dismissed. "But neither am I the point of this, now am I?" Apparently unwilling to say more, he trotted off ahead, leaving the young dwarf woman at the back.

* * *

"Hello."

The word came from just ahead of her, not long after her chat with Gandalf, and she snapped her head up to the sight of a smiling Fíli half turned around in his saddle.

"Hello," she echoed as Kíli appeared as well, his bangs curling and adhering to his forehead in spite of his hood. The two dropped back to flank Eisa.

"How are you?" inquired the younger.

"Soggy," she declared.

The brothers burst out laughing.

"You asked," she said blankly before realizing that they weren't making fun of her; they simply thought her candidness amusing. That puzzled her more. "I was just being honest," she stuttered.

"We know," chortled Fíli. "Lighten up!"

"I am plenty light enough," she replied with less seriousness, sitting higher in the saddle. "Light as a…feather," she finished lamely.

"Oh, indeed," nodded Kíli sagely. "Or a boulder that you've thrown into the river. Nothing lighter than you."

"Clearly it's the rain that's weighing you down, else you'd just float away," supported Fíli with mock solemnity.

"It is on everybody else," Eisa sighed, eyeing the members of the Company ahead of the trio. Gandalf was back in the lead again. "If there's a conflict of interests on which way to travel, why is he letting Gandalf lead?" she wondered out loud.

"You picked up on that, did you?" said Fíli dryly.

She was caught slightly off guard; she hadn't been expecting a response merely because she was so used to talking to herself. "You could say that."

"Uncle might be letting him lead now, but when it comes time for decisions to be made, he'll voice his opinions, make no mistake," Kíli told her, leaning closer.

"I for one don't feel wonderful about the whole arrangement," Fíli confided. "It's true we will likely need a wizard's help, but…" he trailed off mysteriously.

"I still say he's probably killed hundreds of dragons in his lifetime," muttered Kíli. "Dozens, maybe. Scores," he amended after considering just how many years that would require.

Fíli was opening his mouth to reply when it dawned on both brothers what the younger had just let slip. They shared a wide-eyed look past Eisa, but transferred no blame.

Yet the dwarf maiden just laughed, looking far ahead despite the sheets of rain still upon them. "Dragons? Gandalf? Oh, goodness. Perhaps in his younger days. I wonder how many ages of the world he's seen," she mused chattily. "Or how many tongues he speaks, how many kings he's met—oh, of course!" She slowed her errant tongue and snapped her slippery fingers as she remembered something of importance. "I didn't think of it before, but if Thorin is your uncle, and he's the rightful king, then what does that make you? Heirs somewhere down the line?"

"Not 'down the line'," Fíli scoffed.

"_Next_ in line," Kíli emphasized. "Well, he is, at least." He gestured at his elder brother.

"So, yes," Fíli clarified. "Heirs of Dúrin."

"Royalty," Kíli smirked at Eisa, as she whipped her head back and forth to keep track of the two.

"Princes, I suppose," Fíli sighed lazily, sitting up straight but somehow managing to lounge back in the saddle.

Eisa sarcastically raised her eyebrows in skepticism at both of them.

"Please, refrain from bowing repeatedly." Kíli held up a hand haughtily, puffing out his chest.

"I'll try to restrain myself, Your Lordships," Eisa deadpanned.

"Ooh. I like that. Don't you, Fíli?" Kíli grinned delightedly.

"Oh, most certainly." He nodded earnestly.

"How about you just skip straight to the formalities from now on, O most faithful subject?" suggested Kíli cheekily.

"Oh I'll faithfully subject you to something, all right," Eisa muttered in retort. "Gags are always an option."

"Oof. Cold. So cold," Fíli whistled.

"Frigid," Kíli added, veering his pony closer to hers jokingly. Evidently, though, it was a bit too close, because Eisa's pony snapped its teeth at Kíli's, causing his to give a surprised huff and dance away nervously.

"You see? That's what you get," Eisa taunted him, leaning forward and petting the pony's neck as Fíli guffawed. "Good girl," she cooed. "It is a girl, isn't it?" she asked hurriedly, not sure which dwarf to look at for help.

"That's Daisy," nodded Kíli as he eyed the pony with a bit more apprehension.

"Well aren't you just a dear," Eisa grinned, stroking Daisy's mane. "Who has a faithful subject now?" she teased Kíli.

Thorin could hear his nephew's vehement protests from close to the front of the line, and he stole another glance over his shoulder to survey the Company. He had been doing so for a while now, and every time, his gaze gravitated to the trio at the rear. "I should not have encouraged her," he muttered to no one in particular, but Balin answered him anyway.

"Let the young'uns be," he advised. "The lass is harmless."

"That's what concerns me," replied Thorin darkly. "Anyone is harmless enough, with a name and nothing else to travel by. We know nothing of her, and she must know nothing of us by the time she leaves," he determined stubbornly.

"We know that she knows little of herself in the first place, and that that is not likely to change," countered the old dwarf. He paused and gave his king a shrewd look. "But you saw the way she looked at you when she realized who you were."

"You noticed that?" frowned Thorin.

"I suppose I did. Her manners seemed appropriate enough to me, regardless," Balin went on. "She is clearly no stranger to our people. And as far as your sister-sons are concerned, there is nothing amiss about her." Thorin grunted at the mention of his nephews and looked away, and Balin, sensing that he would speak no more at the moment, retreated.

The king was reminded of the time he had grudgingly allowed a young Fíli and Kíli to keep a stray mutt they had found wandering about, back in the Blue Mountains. The boys had loved the dog to pieces, keeping it by their sides all hours of the day and night, for they were never apart themselves. After about a week, they had grown extremely fond of it and finally decided on a name. But one day, when they had decided that bringing the dog outside to play outside the city boundaries would be a good idea, the mutt spotted a squirrel that struck its fancy and darted off into the forest before either boy realized what was happening. It had not responded to its name, it had not looked behind as it ran, and it never came back.

He remembered Kíli's big brown eyes filling up with tears as darkness fell that night, the little dwarfling trying not to cry but fighting a losing battle. He remembered the way that Fíli had hung his golden head with its tiny braids, bitter with disappointment as he tried to answer his little brother's questions about where their new pet had suddenly gone and what was going to happen now.

And he remembered that strays only brought more trouble than they were worth.


	7. Chapter Six

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **So, here's to creative license. And to Tolkien! Cheers. (glug)

**A/N:** Warning: occasional strong language (I think) and some innuendos of a sexual nature. Also, I don't intend to offend anyone or their views, preferences, etc., and that blob of suspicious vagueness is all I'll say on that matter 'til the end of this chapter. Also, there may be a bit of OOC-ness, so let me know what you think of that...  
Thanks to: **rain ravinlin**, **keanaxstyles**, **thesecondhalf**, **Alya Kihaku**, **AnimeOtakuBara**, **Lizzie Hopscotch**, **PyroKitsune**, **KiliFiliGwaineHusbands**, **pineapplegoddess**, **xAmyKilix **(oooh why thank you! :D), **Hiding in the Shadow** (urgh, wasn't it? -sniffles- oh my feels. thanks!), **HanVanHelsing **(Thanks for the guest review! :D You flatter me. Mm, Thorin gets growlier, I must warn you... Although it's for a reason, and that's explained. Maybe that helps? Ooh and thank you, I am such a sucker for character/relationship development so I'm glad you think I'm doing it right. :), **kaia** (Oh I know that they weren't actually there; I was just referencing how they probably grew up hearing stories and getting a sense of what the history of their people is like. They're the heirs, after all :) Sorry if I confused you!), and **everyone else that's been reading!  
**I really have no idea what to even say about this chapter. Hopefully you get through it, and hopefully I don't completely demolish how you look at these characters. Figuratively. All right, I'm going to be quiet now. Just...just read, please. You'll see. Enjoy...?

* * *

**Chapter Six**

_In Which General Madness Ensues_

The next day they passed Bree, and still Eisa remained. It was a bit of an oliphant in the hypothetical room at the moment, but no one chose to comment.

No one commented, but Thorin certainly demonstrated.

First, he tried to distract her by pointing out and incorrectly naming various wildlife, then hiding his imposing bulk behind trees in a presumed attempt to escape her notice while she wasn't looking.

Then he began to alternate between completely ignoring her existence and questioning her with increasingly alarming intensity. One minute his eyes would literally skate over her, and he would loudly ask of no one in particular if they heard anything as soon as she began to speak to anyone. The next minute he would suddenly take an extreme interest in her past, and at one point became disturbingly intent on her recounting every detail of one of her escapades in a town in Gondor. From that particular series of inquiries, Eisa concluded that the wayward king was a closet drunk with far too little time on his hands in which to have fun.

When she wasn't trying to stave off what must have been Thorin going into withdrawal or something, she was being incessantly elbowed by a snickering Bofur. He stalked her and Fíli and Kíli for the better part of the day and managed to turn almost every single thing they said into something suggestive. There was a particularly crude sequence involving sticks and how to start a fire that had most of them blushing and the rest cackling about friction.

But things started to get really strange when they made camp early, in the late afternoon. Eisa was floundering, not knowing what to do since it wasn't time to begin supper yet, when Kíli approached her unexpectedly and nervously asked to speak with her alone.

"Of course," she agreed automatically, surprised, and Kíli nodded towards the woods. He had a very odd expression on his face that was some combination of apprehension and nervousness. And for some reason, there appeared to be a hint of…fear?

They stopped abruptly, not far from camp, and Kíli got straight to the point. His shoulders were tight and he wouldn't turn to look at her. "You…you're normal height, like us, but you don't have a beard. You're kind and polite but embarrassed by attention, and you're far too insightful. You aren't trusted by my uncle, although we don't have any reason to mistrust you. Your past is shady and you won't speak about it even when asked, and you haven't mentioned any family." He paused. "Remind me. How old are you?"

Eisa hesitated, wondering where he was going with this. "…Fifty-two."

"How long have you been fifty-two?" he ground out.

"…About seven months," she calculated.

His breathing quickened. "I know what you are."

She froze dead. There was no way. "Say it." At this point, she would take any possibility, anything she could get. "Out loud." He was silent, and she couldn't handle it anymore. "Say it," she insisted.

"…_A Mary Sue_," he said quietly, horrified.

Eisa shrank from the term, but, unable to come up with a melodramatic retort, simply turned and stalked away.

"That he would accuse me of such a thing," she muttered darkly to herself as she returned to camp. Immediately everyone turned to stare at her, and she was reminded of all the times she and others had been unfairly judged. It was simply too much, so she uncharacteristically just burst into tears.

Well, that caused something of a panic. Apparently Bofur was the only one who had the faintest idea what to do with a bawling female, and he came over to pat her shoulder gently. "Now lass, what's the matter?"

"I…" She sniffled. "Kíli accused me of something horrible, and I'm sick of it."

"It can't have been all that bad," Fíli tried to comfort her, joining Bofur and floundering about a bit helplessly.

"Of course it is!" she wailed. Naturally she was pretty even while crying, and she scrubbed at the perfectly formed teardrops falling from the corners of her eyes. "He called me a Mary Sue!"

Just then, Kíli himself emerged from the undergrowth. "Well, think about it! What if she is?"

"Okay, okay, I confess, all right?" Eisa spat, bitter under the undesirable circumstances. "But I was only disguised as a Mary Sue! I thought…" She hesitated and sniffed, although of course her nose wasn't running like the dickens as it should have been. "I thought it would make you like me better. Especially Thorin." Looking around, she spotted the ex-king and watched him with adoring hopefulness. "I wanted to be useful, and helpful, and an asset, not a disappointment to the greatest king in Middle Earth."

Thorin stared back impassively, and they had a good old traditional Burning Eye Contact Moment.

"Oh, for the love of—I'm the one that's deprived of female companionship here, not him!" spluttered Kíli, waving his arms frantically and trying to get someone to notice him.

"But, Brother—" stammered Fíli— "You told me last night that no woman would ever come between us!"

"WHAT?" Ori gasped, looking scandalized but intrigued at the same time.

"NOOOO!" Bilbo shrieked from some forgotten corner. "The Bagginshield shippers were bad enough! Don't you dare bring Dúrincest into this, too!" He rolled away into the night with his hands clapped over his ears.

"That's not what he meant, you dung-heads!" Kíli screeched.

"EISA!" Thorin bellowed, attempting to make himself heard over the ruckus despite the (majestic) flaming of his cheeks. Instantly, everyone stilled, and Gandalf looked a tad disappointed as he slowly stashed a small firework back into his sleeve. "I have a confession of my own to make. It concerns…what you are."

She was silent, as was the rest of the Company, and he continued. "You do not yet realize your importance. You have only begun to discover your power. Join me, and I will complete your training."

"Er…Uncle, what are you on about?" muttered Fíli.

But Thorin was on a majestic roll. "If you only knew the power of the dark side—I mean, the power of Erebor—" He righted himself and lowered his brows, staring the young woman down intently. "No one ever told you what happened to your father."

"I can guess well enough," Eisa retorted, the seeds of dread for some reason taking hold in her stomach. "People always told me he must be dead. It is only logical."

Thorin shook his head determinedly. "No," he said bluntly. "I…am your father."

Fíli and Kíli gasped. Ori, Dori, and Nori gasped. Bombur and Bofur gasped, and Bifur stared even harder than usual before beginning to sign agitatedly. Balin and Dwalin gasped. Óin and Glóin gasped. Bilbo had mysteriously returned, and gasped. Gandalf giggled knowingly to himself through a dense cloud of pipe-weed.

"No," Eisa gasped. "No…that's not true. That's impossible!" she hollered in denial.

"Search your feelings; you know it to be true," Thorin assured her gravely.

She turned the notion over in her mind, and after her internal montage of memories was over, complete with dramatic soundtrack, she burst out, "What the Mordor?! That's it? You're my Nazgûl-damned father?"

"_You're_ my illegitimate _cousin?!_" Kíli bellowed, invading on the moment. "And I was—oh no—Smaug's flaming arse, I was just starting to develop feelings for you!"

"Brother, stop trying to construct curses by abusing the use of allusions. It does not make you sound as majestic as our Uncle. You too, er, Cousin Eisa. And Uncle, do you have any idea what this will do to the plot?" Fíli despaired, grimacing and patting his brother on the shoulder comfortingly.

"I, er, never knew you fathered a child, Thorin," muttered Balin, looking highly uncomfortable as the king's closest advisor.

"I had my reasons for keeping silent," said the tall dwarf, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"But you have a child—and a daughter, at that!" Dwalin stressed, pointing out the importance of the thing.

"Wait. Wait just a Sauron-slapping minute." Kíli held up a hand imperiously, trying to channel his uncle's majesty. "If she's the king's daughter…"

"Hello! _She_ is right here!" Eisa snarled, just as peeved as he was.

"Well, slap me thrice and hand me to Ilúvatar," Fíli declared. "She has a better claim to the throne than we do."

There was more silence, and another wave of gasps made the rounds.

Eisa broke the quiet again with a whoop. "That's right! Heir and Possibly Future Queen Under the Mountain! BOW TO ME, PEASANTS!" She cackled quite madly and ran loops around the camp, hugging Thorin tightly several times on her cycles before realizing that a family heart-to-heart was probably required here. The family of heirs of Erebor promptly commenced a huddle session.

"Well," Bilbo said to Gandalf. "Now that this is all nice and confusticated." He groped desperately for some pipe-weed in his waistcoat pockets.

"My dear Bilbo," chuckled the wizard, handing him a pinch of his own grass. "Who's to say it wasn't meant to end up like this in the first place?"

Then Azog's orc-and-warg dream team of minions came crashing out of the underbrush undetected. Fíli, Kíli, and the rest of the dwarves were all eaten trying to protect Thorin, who was then eaten as well. Eisa was left barely alive and doomed to wander the world for the remains of her long life mourning her new-found family.

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APRIL FOOL!

X'D

I am so sorry; I just couldn't resist the temptation. I've been wanting to do a prank!crack!chapter for an April Fool for The Longest Time so I took out my urge on all of you lovely people.

Don't hate me too much.

I hope your brains are still intact and you're not passed out on your keyboard.

As I vaguely mentioned before, I don't want to offend anyone so that was not a pairing bashing. I just see the liberty of shippingness in this fandom as a bit of a running joke, so that's where that whole bit came from.

Wow. Twilight reference, Star Wars reference, abuse of allusions to events that haven't really become important/happened yet... I was on a roll, there.

I'm not even quite sure where this came from, actually. Excuse me while I just sort of mumble to myself and reread this...this..._thing_ that my keyboard has spawned under my orders. To make up for this bout of trolling, I'll update again quite soon :)

Erm...review? ;D


	8. Chapter Seven

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **You know, I was tempted to take some credit last time around, but this...no.

**A/N:** Well! (coughs and looks around) I have to say...damn. That was one doozy of a reaction x'D You're all fantastic for putting up with my shenanigans, and now that I've essentially bared all my guilty pleasures to the world - excluding my lovely BBC shows, for fear that too few of you would get the references, although I'll have to throw in a cliche Sherlock pun somewhere just because I can - here's an actual serious chapter! I think the first two lines or so correspond more or less with the false start on the crack!chapter. And that's where the similarities end.  
As a general reply to most of your reactions to chapter six: muahahahaaa - my fooling was successful! :D I am indeed a closet troll, and loving every minute. I'm glad you all seemed to get a laugh out of that whole...matter. Incident. Mess. Thing.  
Okay, I'll stop thought-vomiting now; track meets exhaust me and do bad things to my late-night mental faculties. Much, much, MUCH thanks! To: **littledaydreamer07**, **Sam** **0728**, **Rae01**, **Hiding in the Shadow**, **Mignun**, **MentalX**, **Calistacat98**, **i am a Fire-jay**, **XxxBellaBellaxxX**, **AemiKili**, **nikkiMac20**, **Viruska**, **megerrard1**, **Calypso1211**, **shadowphoenix14**, **OffbeatUpboat**, **Abyss Prime**, **jalapeno1011**, **Verrokami**, **ScienceExperiment5150**, **Snittycakez**, and **FunkyLittleHufflepuff**!  
And to the anons out there, plus anyone who wants to read my definition of a Mary Sue: **Guest #1** (glad you enjoyed that!), **Guest #2** (oh man xD I suddenly feel like we have a lot in common), **Julia** (Yay! Oof, wasn't it, though? I scared myself for a second there. Thought I needed a bit of a bomb to drop at the end, just because XD And I'm so happy that you like that; I mean, even though her heritage is sketchy, I'm thinking that I might just never definitively address the truth. Heck, I don't even know the truth, so what are the odds that she'd find out? Thank you!), and **kaia** (Aha! I know this. Ahem. Mary Sue: a female OC inserted into the storyline who appears to be perfect in every way. She is usually objectively flawlessly beautiful, is good at everything, has talents/powers that can't be explained/are unrealistic in terms of what the canon content gives the reader, and without fail ends up in a blissfully happy relationship with the hot main character. She can also have a stereotypically tragic past while conveniently showing little to none of the psychological/behavioral signs of that experience or trauma. People like me tend to enjoy poking a bit of good-natured fun at Mary Sues since they're so easy to write and require little actual development as characters, and thus we actively try to avoid putting in characteristics or plot points that seem "too perfect." Hope that helps :)

Live long and prosper, all of you. Oh goodness, that was long. I'm sorry. Please enjoy! :)

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

_In Which There is Corporal Injury and the Potential for Claustrophobia_

The next day they passed Bree, and still Eisa remained. If anyone had been hoping she would drop off, they didn't mention it, and in her opinion Gandalf was beginning to look rather smug. None of the dwarves complained—at least, not that she caught wind of, and most of the time she did—and even the now perpetually despondent Bilbo was beginning to warm up to the girl. That may have had something to do with the fact that she was much more sympathetic towards him than anyone else. It wasn't much of a comparison, but she allowed the hobbit to let off his steam over a bowl of Bombur's latest concoction, and that was good enough for him.

A couple days later they could see Midgewater in the distance to the north of the road, and, unfortunately, one of Eisa's bouts of bad luck promptly kicked in. She was so preoccupied with watching the land around her and trying to get a glimpse of the lake that she failed to notice when Fíli's pony, just ahead of her, came across a snake in the grass.

It was a little thing, just a garden snake, but anything legless and wriggling is enough to set off most creatures, and Fíli yelped as his pony shrieked and reared, but held on well enough. Eisa, caught unawares, immediately searched for danger and found nothing, but Daisy had been spooked by the other pony's sudden panic, and pranced sideways just in time for Fíli's pony to buck and kick out with its short but powerful hind legs. Eisa saw it coming and shouted, trying to get Daisy to veer away quickly, but it wasn't enough, and the agitated pony's hoof glanced off her left leg, just above her ankle.

It wasn't a full-on purposeful kick, but she still couldn't help her gasp of pain. She leaned forward over Daisy's neck and closed her eyes, hissing her breath in and out. The pony, sensing that her mistress was no longer in control—they had grown rather fond of each other over the past few days—whinnied nervously, and by that time the whole Company had turned round in alarm at the sounds coming from the rear of the train.

"Just a snake," Fíli called, waving for everyone to carry on. "It's alright!"

"Eisa?" came Kíli's voice with a frown in it.

She lifted her head, already half smiling. "What is it?"

"Are you—oh. I guess—for a moment you looked like—never mind." He shook his head, hunching his shoulders slightly.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Just fixing my stirrup. Fíli's pony nearly kicked me into next Dúrin's Day."

"What?" The blonde wheeled in the saddle, having mostly calmed his pony down. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine!" she sighed, disregarding the stabbing pain in her leg. She hoped fervently that it wasn't fractured. "Now hurry up, you're falling behind!" Grinning with her teeth clenched far too tightly, she trotted past them to where she could let her face fall into a grimace.

By the time they stopped to make camp, the pain had been reduced to an aggressive throbbing that pulsed with her heartbeat, making her slightly queasy if she concentrated on it for too long. She had checked on it by touch as best she could through her breeches and boots when Fíli and Kíli weren't looking, and she was almost certain that her bones were all whole and in their respective places, which was a plus. So she figured, as she went to dismount off the opposite side of the pony than usual so that she didn't have to put pressure on the leg right away, that if she was careful she'd be all right by morning.

Lowering herself cautiously with her sturdy arms to where the toe of her boot could reach the ground, she put all her weight on her right leg to stand there inconspicuously for a moment. _There, now that wasn't so bad._ Now all she had to do was ask Kíli if he would please take Daisy for her to the field just beyond the tree line where most of the horses were already grazing.

The words were just coming out of her mouth as she tested a step forward, so all that she got out was "Kíli, would you—" before her leg gave out and she collapsed. "Uh-oh," she told the grass, her voice muffled by the dirt.

She swore quietly and pushed herself up on her hands, trying to breathe through it. The pain was back, all right. It was back with a fiery vengeance.

Kíli turned from his own pony, just having slid off, and was about to mock her for falling over while dismounting, but then he saw the look on her face and was on his knees in front of her in an instant. "Eisa? What's wrong? Did you twist your ankle?"

"Mm-mm," she approximated a negative, and sat up, pulling her left knee up to cradle the leg protectively.

"Well, what have you done, then?" he asked, slightly exasperated.

"Nothing," she said truthfully.

"So now nothing is making you fall over."

"Precisely."

They narrowed their eyes at each other.

Eisa hated breaking eye contact first, but she did it anyway. It wasn't like she could walk or anything, and if she wanted to get along, she would need some sort of assistance. "Pony kicked me earlier," she told him shortly. "Well, deflected off me is more like it," she revised, doubting that would make it any better but making an attempt anyway.

"You said it missed!" Kíli blustered as expected.

"Technically—" She shifted the wrong way in her seated position, jolting her heel against the ground, and she winced again.

"Never mind," the dwarf sighed. "Let's have a look, then." And before Eisa could protest, he'd scooped her up and tossed her onto his back as though she weighed no more than a child. Wisely, she decided to concentrate on her physical state in favor of her pride for the moment.

He deposited her carefully on a log and announced that he was getting Óin, leaving her to work at tugging her boot off. Eventually she succeeded, and rolling up her breeches and shoving her sock down, she bent her leg at an awkward angle to see the outside of her shin. The normally pale skin was beginning to turn a dull red beneath the surface, and she quickly determined how far the mark would spread just by feeling it out: it would be a doozy.

Kíli returned in a moment with Óin in tow as well as Fíli. The healer bent over her leg and murmured to himself, but eventually told Eisa that all she could do was rest the leg. Nothing was broken or bleeding, but it was a nasty bugger of a contusion, sensitive to touch as well as, unfortunately, muscle use. She shrugged and assured him that she would be fine, but he wasn't fooled and reminded her sternly not to overdo it.

Fíli and Kíli had been sitting off to her side, fiddling with something or other and speaking in low voices to one another, but once their companion had done what he could, they edged closer.

"Well?" demanded Fíli, still a bit put off that it had been his pony to do the damage.

"I can only wait it out. It's no crisis," Eisa reassured him, a tiny ball of warmth growing in her stomach that might or might not have had do with their sudden concern for her well-being. She suddenly noticed that Kíli was staring intently into space, and she waved a hand in front of his dark chocolate-colored eyes. "Is the dirt that fascinating?" she teased him when he gave a start and looked at her.

"Oh, no, it's…your feet," he stated.

Eisa blinked. "Is that supposed to be a joke, or have you hit your head?"

"No, neither, it's just—well, look at them!" He gesticulated and looked to his brother for backup.

"My. You're right, Brother," Fíli observed in some combination of fascination and horror. "What happened?"

"What do you mean, what happened?" Eisa studied her feet in mild uneasiness, one booted and one socked and still set askew on the log beside her.

"They're…tiny," Kíli whispered in awe.

"They're perfectly normal," she argued, rolling her eyes at their silliness.

"Disagreed," negated Fíli.

"I don't fall over on them, now do I? Rather, other than—oh, you know what I mean," she huffed.

"But still," Kíli muttered, both brothers' attention now riveted on her extremities.

"They're so…_undwarflike_," Fíli said as one might call something unladylike, sounding scandalized but as if he was trying to make light of it. Thankfully, he sounded innocently intrigued enough that Eisa didn't have to get angry with him.

"Are you sure you're not just a very small human?" Kíli peered at her with an intentness that Eisa feared might make the skin of her face intensify greatly in color.

Fíli went still, worried that his brother had crossed a line, but the girl let it roll off her and gave the two a long-suffering look. She glanced quickly about them and, seeing that no one was near, leaned across Kíli and waved them both closer in a sort of linear huddle.

"_If I was a human, would I be able to say this?_" she asked them quietly in Khuzdul.

The words translated themselves effortlessly in the dwarves' minds, so it took a moment for it to sink in that she hadn't spoken in Westron, the common speech.

Fíli reacted first. "_You speak it?_" he whispered in return.

"Only some," she confessed, reverting to her native language. "And you've no idea how difficult it was to learn," she complained.

"Of course, if you didn't grow up learning it," Kíli nodded understandingly, their heads still close together. Dwarf children learned to speak using the common tongue in the region where they were raised, almost always Westron, which stemmed from an almost obsessive tradition of keeping Khuzdul "pure." Since cradle-speech had a high potential to undergo mutations from generation to generation, dwarves went through periods of intense language study as they matured, even once they reached the point of fluency, so that the language remained almost completely unchanged over the centuries.

"Oh, no, I picked it up quick as anything," Eisa clarified casually. "It's in my blood, after all. The problem was convincing anyone they could…well. That I wasn't just a very small human." One side of her mouth quirked up ironically.

"Ohhh," Kíli comprehended. "I see." Then he frowned. "Oh. Wait a moment, then who on Arda did you get to teach you?" Dwarves were notorious for their secrecy, especially in their language. The most that a member of another race would ever hear of Khuzdul would be a battle cry, but that would also probably mean their impending demise, so it didn't usually matter.

"I traveled to Ered Luin. It was a good fortnight of yelling back and forth and hoping they didn't send a pack of archers out after me before they finally let me in. Blindfolded, naturally," she reasoned matter-of-factly. "As it was, they ambushed me from behind. I thought for sure they'd throw me in a cell when they all discovered I didn't have a beard," she laughed. "The looks on their faces when they took the bag off my head!"

"But they let you in?" Fíli asked, he and his brother both rapt with attention.

"Ultimately. But it wasn't easy, let me tell you." She wagged a finger at them. "And that was the first place I—" Suddenly noticing how much she had said, she  
brought herself up short, ducking her head and beginning to work on pulling on her boot again.

Observing her discomfort, Kíli blurted out, "Will you tell us a story?"

Eisa blinked at him. "What sort of story?"

"One about you," Fíli smiled, of one mind with his brother. "About one of your adventures, you know."

"What do you know of the extent of my adventures?" asked Eisa slowly, attempting to remain wary but with an irrepressible smile tugging at her lips anyway.

"Not enough," replied Kíli cheekily.

She spent about ten seconds arguing with herself while she continued to wrestle with her boot, then abandoned the mental effort and rolled her eyes as she finally yanked the thing back on. "Only if you'll help me to get over there." She jerked her head toward everyone else, gathered closer to where the night's firewood was being built up.

The two shared a look and agreed together: "Fair enough!"

With that, Kíli ducked around to her other side and they each grabbed one of her hands, slinging her arms over their strong shoulders and standing up. Even though she was fairly tall for a dwarf, her feet dangled above the ground as they wrapped their free arms around her waist to support her. She yelped but began to laugh as they made their entangled way across the campsite.

Glóin muttered something about young dwarves with too much energy and no sense of decency, but he was on the whole ignored when the sky suddenly gave an ominous rumble. Clouds were rolling in from the south that had most definitely not been obstructing the remains of the sunset a few minutes ago, and the wind began to come in gusts.

"Curse this unpredictable weather," groused Dwalin.

"We'll need to find better shelter," ordered Thorin. The area where they had stopped was protected, but not from above. "Everyone spread out and start looking. There isn't much daylight left."

Everyone quickly obeyed while Eisa sighed and hopped to her feet—or rather, foot—and clambered up on top of a log, surveying the land. "What's that over there? Where that tree's leaning over?" she asked of Kíli. He had been floundering a few feet away from her, torn between staying with her and potentially hurting her pride, and letting her take care of herself and potentially hurting her feelings.

"I'll go take a look," he said gratefully, jogging off as she hopped down the log, trying to get a better view. If a tree or two had fallen, it was possible that they had created a canopy of sorts. Trying to stay dry all night just by sitting underneath upright trees was almost impossible except in extremely dense forests, which were not abundant here.

A moment later, Kíli whistled. Eisa jumped down off the log and made her hobbling way toward the sound, feeling rather useless, and came into view of the rest of the Company to see Kíli looking relieved at Thorin's apparent approval.

"It was Eisa who saw it first, actually," the younger dwarf was informing his uncle modestly, giving her a mischievous smile when Thorin turned his back.

She quickly stopped limping and tried to lean casually against a tree. "Oh, don't mind me," she dismissed, the tips of her ears feeling hot. Why Kíli had felt the need to put her on the spot, she did not know.

"Bit small, isn't it?" fretted Dori. Bilbo appeared to agree, though he wouldn't say anything.

"It'll do," Thorin asserted, thankfully intent on ignoring the young dwarf woman.

The tree that had been growing out over a small but steep rise in the land must have fallen a while ago, since its branches had become entangled with those of the trees at the bottom of the rise. Although the massive roots of the tree above had held the critical soil in place, the side of the hill had become hollowed out, protected by the spreading boughs of the intertwined trees. The rest of the vegetation in the area was sufficient to keep the ponies safe, and the makeshift cave looked to be just large enough for thirteen dwarves and their campfire.

But of course, there were in fact fourteen dwarves, a very tall wizard, a very uncomfortable hobbit, and their campfire, so things were a bit cramped.

Finally an arrangement was made to ensure that everyone was sheltered along with the fire, and they all settled in knowing that it was unlikely that they would be able to shift around much until morning. The area protected by the overhang was deep, but not so deep that they feared a cave-in, and the sprawling limbs of the two trees prevented the driving rain from entering from the sides. Even so, everyone was crammed against the back wall just to be sure—they had had quite enough of being soaked, thank you very much—and trying to cluster as close to the central fire as they could.

Eisa was wedged in between Fíli and Kíli, who had insisted on remaining by her side should she need their help again (though she didn't know how that would even be possible in a space like this). The three had been jostled close to the middle, and Eisa shed her long coat in the heat of the flames to roll it up and stuff it behind her back. Once it came time to eat, she unfastened the toggles on her shorter hooded coat as well, revealing the loose pale green shirt beneath. She began to go into her pack in search of something besides dried meat when a bowl of stew was shoved under her nose.

"Take it, or else I'll have to hit you with it," threatened Bofur, never serious but doing his best to look stern anyway.

"Oh, no, I could…" The juvenile heirs of Dúrin turned on her with equally severe looks. "…n't refuse. Naturally." She took the spare bowl in both hands, pleasantly warming her bare fingers while the palms of her gloves acted like potholders. Upon further investigation, the soup was extremely good, even by table standards, considering they were out in the middle of nowhere and she had no idea what Bombur even had to work with. "This is excellent, Master Bombur," she told the fat redheaded dwarf a minute later, thoroughly impressed. "You are a wonderful cook."

Bombur muttered and grumbled but might have looked a tad pleased with himself.

"We know," Fíli whispered to her helpfully. "You were the one that was a bit slow on the uptake."

Light clanking noises became more and more frequent as the members of the Company scraped the bottoms of their bowls with their spoons, and it was then that Kíli piped up: "So. What about that story, Eisa?"


	9. Chapter Eight

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **I swear, even if I did invent all this canon hoopla, I'd still be doing this amount of research because there's no way I could keep it all straight.

**A/N: **All righty, you lovelies are getting downright spoiled with this chapter! :3 It's also probable that I'll update verrrry late on Tuesday night as well. However, you're not going to like the reason. Drumroll if you please. On Wednesday I leave for South America for ten days! (squee) Which is SUPER exciting but that means that while I'll be taking my notebook along and trying to get out some writing and some sketches, obviously I won't have Internet access, etc. So you'll all just have to wait until about T minus two weeks from now for Chapter Ten. Apologies! But I'll make the next one a bit longer just to tide you over ;)  
Thanks this time around to the spectacular: **Hiding in the Shadow**, **Calenia**,** kaia **(They're very welcome! Glad to hear it :),** . .Me**,** sociallyawkwardscot**,** BrokenHeartAlchemist**,** SerendipityAsAlways **(what?! :D Thank you love, I feel so honored!),** Abyss Prime**,** Star Delta**,** xDark-She-Wolfx**,** Guest #1 **(Hurhurhur. You guess my thoughts, O wise one ;),** Diana Silver**,** Howy98**,** Pledged To Artemis**,** Guest #2**,** Hawthorn Tree**,** blackbeltgirl95**, and **Belliwing**!

All right, all right, here's her story! :P Enjoy!

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**Chapter Eight**

_In Which (Quite Simply) A Story is Told_

"So. What about that story, Eisa?"

She nearly groaned out loud, having hoped he'd forgotten. "Mm. What shall I tell?" she asked, trying to at least sound enthusiastic.

"Anything," said Kíli.

"What about how you learned Khuzdul?" Fíli suggested much more practically.

Thorin, whose brooding capabilities had been severely hampered by the close quarters, looked up sharply from across the fire. "You speak it?" he nearly snapped, his eyes boring into Eisa.

"Of course," she said automatically. Was that a sin, or something? She had as much right to her people's secret language as anyone. "I'm not quite fluent, but I understand it well enough."

"Well, tell us how, then. You were in Ered Luin…?" Kíli prompted impatiently, nudging her with his elbow.

"It wasn't that simple!" Eisa scoffed, now looking back fondly on what had been quite a series of difficulties. "You see, I was approaching from the south, really nowhere near your halls in the north," she clarified with a nod to Thorin out of courtesy, even though he didn't appear to even be paying attention anymore, "and I wanted to see a dwarf civilization, since I'd heard there was—"

"Hold on, hold on," Fíli interrupted. "What do you mean? Were you not born… Where _were_ you born?" He made a face, thoroughly puzzled.

"Oh. Right." Eisa paused for a minute. "I was born in a city of Men. In Gondor," she said finally. "I was orphaned as an infant, or at least I assume so." The words rushed out of her mouth as if they could disguise their meaning by coming out all at once. "But anyhow, obviously I wasn't raised by dwarves, so I never studied Khuzdul or even saw many of our people. After a while of traveling I decided Ered Luin sounded like a decent bet to learn a thing or two, but I was a bit naïve," she chuckled. "Everyone had always told me how secretive dwarves are, but I never really understood it until then. I found a door—probably a side one, not of regular use but still fairly active, I thought—but then I realized I had no idea how to get inside!"

"That is generally the idea when we make our doors," nodded Bofur, trying not to laugh. Apparently he was listening as well, despite the other quiet conversations going on.

"Yes, well, I could…_feel _it, you know, where it was, but that was all," admitted Eisa. Thorin suddenly swiveled his head around to stare at her again, but she didn't see him. "I knocked for hours, but nothing happened, until finally there came this voice, out of nowhere! It must have been someone hiding among the rocks, but I couldn't see them. They asked what my business was, in Westron of course, and I told them I was a…oh, what was it?" she asked herself, tapping a finger against her cheek. "A wandering dwarf with scholarly interests who needed a place to stay, or something along those lines," she decided as Fíli and Kíli broke out into snorts of laughter. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

"You make it sound so innocent," Fíli snickered.

"Why, whatever would make you think I'm not?" she grinned back, not actually sure whether she meant it seriously or not. "Anyhow, I tried to explain myself; that I'd been born in exile and all that, but naturally that didn't do much for me. You could say that we…got off to a bad start." Her understatement elicited a few more chuckles, and it was evident that Gandalf and Balin were listening to her speak as well. Even Bilbo had perked up his pointy ears a bit.

"There was a good deal of yelling back and forth, and after a few days I almost gave up." She paused. "But then I remembered that I was there to get to know the people and culture I'd been cut off from. I knew about the destruction of Dale, the taking of the Lonely Mountain, the Battle of Azanulbizar—the stories were everywhere by the time I was born—and the Blue Mountains were the next major dwarf civilizations in Middle Earth. I had no particular agenda, anyway," she shrugged unconcernedly, "so I remained there in the mountains by that door. After about a week's worth of arguing with someone I couldn't see—which was absolutely as ridiculous as it sounds, by the way—I just started hoping that they wouldn't send a few warriors out in the middle of the night just so they could be rid of me," she snorted. "I know they wouldn't have really—" her brow creased slightly in hindsight— "I think. But whatever the case, they didn't. It had been about a fortnight, I think, when it happened."

She stopped short for effect, raising her eyebrows at her audience. "It was the middle of the night, and I was sleeping in a sheltered spot between two boulders…when I heard someone move. Or some_thing_."

Bilbo looked suddenly nervous, and Ori began to fiddle anxiously with his knitted mittens.

"I woke up and I swore I saw something moving. I reached for one of my daggers, just in case, when all of a sudden…someone _grabbed_ me from behind and stuffed a sack over my head!" She leaned forward and flung her hands out dramatically, thoroughly enjoying herself now. "I didn't know what was happening, of course, so I fought them like anything—"

"That I would believe," muttered Kíli, nodding.

"Yes. And I figured out not to when they told me to calm down and that they were taking me inside," she sighed. "Their voices were dwarven, so even though normally that would not be something I'd particularly want to hear, at the time it was fantastic. I couldn't tell you what I passed on the way in, but from what I could hear, part of their decision to let me in came from the fact that I was essentially blocking one of the entrances." Chuckling a bit evilly, she leaned back on her hands, feeling a bit proud. Several more of the dwarves were now paying close attention to her story. "I had become a problem when I refused to leave. They took me through their halls, way down into the mountain—I completely lost track of my direction or how far we'd gone—and they questioned me about who I was, where I'd been… All in all it was highly uncomfortable, really."

"And was it a large civilization?" Fíli interrupted.

"Surprisingly so, as a matter of fact. A good number of settlements were repopulated or reformed after the war." The war she spoke of was the War of Wrath, at the end of the First Age. It was thought for a while that all the dwarves of the Blue Mountains had fled to Khazad-Dûm after all the death and destruction that raged through their lands, but there were pockets that had survived. "Now stop interrupting." She went to ruffle his hair and he ducked her hand playfully. "I'm not quite sure who was in power there, actually. There's little chance that Azaghâl's direct line was able to carry through. It was the rebuilding of Belegost, of course," she remembered.

"The Broadbeams? Telphor's folk?" Kíli spoke up eagerly, disregarding Eisa's order to his brother. "Once, when we were younger, we heard about a mmmph!"

The dwarf maid had clamped her hand firmly over his mouth. "When they finally took the bag off my head, I was in a small chamber with a few other dwarves, and Great Aulë, you should have seen their faces when they saw that I had no beard," she began to laugh. When Kíli continued his muffled protests, she fixed him with a severe look and he quieted, shrinking down meekly. His beard scruff tickled her palm, and after a moment she removed her hand imperiously.

"But the novelty wore off eventually—you've no idea how strange it feels being the only adult in an entire city who hasn't got a beard—and they let me stay. I came out of that chamber and looked around the city, and by the stars…that city. I'd never seen one before, and obviously it was deep in the mountain, but if it hadn't been for the ceiling of rock way up above, I would have sworn it was under the sky, it was so beautiful. But!" she exclaimed, making Óin jump as she got through his hearing impairment (he had laid aside his ear trumpet earlier). "To the point, now. It got interesting when, one day, someone asked me to do something in Khuzdul." She sighed distastefully. "I felt fantastically stupid. I told him I didn't understand—that got me another wonderful reaction—and from then on I received instruction from a group of a few dwarves. There was no shortage of practice time, of course, and for a while I was learning along with a bunch of little dwarflings. Darling children, really." She smiled at the memory, then suddenly blinked and cleared her throat. "So there you have it. That's how I was taught Khuzdul." Looking around, she abruptly realized that nearly everyone had been listening with various degrees of interest, and she was glad for the dim light that hopefully concealed the color that spread up from her collarbone.

"Yet you said you aren't fluent?" Fíli questioned, guessing that it was all right to speak up now. He tugged on one side of his braided moustache thoughtfully.

"I mean," Eisa said self-consciously, "I didn't learn from adolescence like you did. And I haven't really had the chance to practice since." She covered a yawn and relaxed back against the wall of earth and rocks. At some point it had begun to sprinkle, and the rain was now falling in earnest. So far, their shelter was proving effective. "Except to myself, I suppose. And that doesn't usually go very well."

"That was a fine tale, Miss Eisa," Bofur complimented her cheerily from past Fíli, who was on her right. "It's been a long time since I've heard a young lady tell a good story."

"Oh," said Eisa, blinking. "Thank you, Master Bofur. That's good to hear." She promptly yawned again and slumped further down the earthen wall. The rest of the camp was quieting down. "Well, I'm going to sleep. Aren't you two?" she asked, looking between Fíli and Kíli.

Kíli shook his dark head and explained, "We have the first watch."

"Oh," she said again. "All right. Do you…mind—" the blush came back, but this time it snuck all the way up to her cheekbones— "if I just…stay right here?"

"Not a bit. We're not going anywhere," Fíli assured her.

"Thank you. Goodnight Fíli, goodnight Kíli." She resisted the urge to fan at her ridiculous cheeks and arranged herself and her bedroll on the ground, pulling her long coat back over her.

"Goodnight, Eisa," they chorused quietly, as the rest of the Company was settling down, and they prepared for the next few hours to pass very slowly.

The snores soon became audible, most of the noise being generated by Bombur, Glóin, and Dwalin. Thorin and Gandalf, of course, slept silently and stealthily, and the Halfling probably couldn't even sleep in the first place. Óin couldn't hear the racket anyway, but the dwarves made a considerable amount of noise altogether. Eisa didn't make very much noise, however, although she shifted slightly a few times after falling straight into a sleep like a log. A few stray locks of hair had flopped over the braided sections and gotten in her face when she moved, but she didn't wake.

She was facing Kíli, her features softened in slumber and her mouth threatening to start hanging open. Her hands were knotted in the thick fabric of her coat as she curled up tightly on her left side. And every time she breathed in and out, a thin lock of hair fluttered past her cheek and tickled her nose, which had begun to twitch slightly.

Kíli noticed this before too long, and had to stifle a quiet laugh. He decided that he should be a gentleman in this situation and help her, even though she wasn't conscious. Maybe especially because she wasn't conscious. But regardless, in a bit either she would wake up probably cranky or he would lose it and start laughing, and neither scenario would turn out well for anyone. Except perhaps Fíli, but that didn't count.

Carefully he reached over and extended a broad forefinger, hoping she wouldn't suddenly move and make him stab her in the eye. Brushing the finger along her cheek, under her eye, he hooked the piece of hair and tucked it carefully behind her head.

She shifted again a bit at his surprisingly light touch, and Kíli froze in anticipation, but she only reached out and grasped a larger handful of material to hold tightly in her fist as she slept. It wasn't until Fíli—who had seen what his brother did, but chose not to comment—woke the next dwarf for the watch and Kíli began to settle down that he realized Eisa had taken hold of a corner of his coat in the process. It had been spread out around him as he sat, and the edge rested near the young woman's face. So he just shrugged and did his best not to disturb her, relaxing and instantly succumbing to sleep himself.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer:** Well, I own my passport, for one, I mean, that's pretty important, right? That's about it, though, and sadly my passport does not make a cameo appearance here.

**A/N: **Looks like I got another update in after all! :D Slightly longer, and boy is it jam-packed. This one is a right proper gem, to me. I shall miss you all terribly, but never fear - I'm taking along my writing notebook with me, complete with what used to be three pages' worth of notes on upcoming plot points/raging/ideas/weirdness that's now condensed to size nine font with like point-zero-one spacing and the margins expanded to the max while remaining just barely printable.  
We've hit the 50th review mark! :'D Not to mention the traffic flow has literally been making my jaw drop. I LOVE YOU ALL. SO. FREAKING. MUCH.  
Super-duper-thanks goes pretty much right up to current time due to the short interim update period (heh), to: **Iamborednow**, **Guest** (Thank you! Oh I shall ;), **Crazyhyper09**, **TheHorseLady**, **feather-of-an-angel**, **Belliwing** (thank yooooou :), **Hiding in the Shadow** (teehee, thanks),** i am a Fire-jay** (FUN FACT: you were the 50th reviewer :3 Ooooh, how awesome! You have fun as well! You'll be so busy you won't even notice you've been away from home :) Good luck!), **MagicLover16**, **AemiKili** (Aw, thanks! Glad you like both of those :), **superloudean**, **yoohoo2202**, **Pyrassion**, **danamarie1995**,** Syrena Swift**, **devilsrose27**, and **allllll the readers**!

Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Review? :)

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

_In Which There is Much Communication_

She woke in the morning to a hazy light that she assumed meant she was up early again. Then came the worst realization for anyone sleep-deprived: she had in fact overslept, and the dimness was caused by the thick clouds that were still pouring rain down.

Beginning an ill-tempered survey of the squished camp, she gradually came to the realization that she felt much better rested than she had lately, despite probably having slept less the previous night than any other. Which was puzzling. Their location was not exceedingly comfortable, nor any safer than those before. She hadn't been exceptionally exhausted aside from staying up a bit later than usual after supper— Ah. The stew. That must have been it. Perhaps she should make a habit of consuming more of Bombur's cooking.

She had hardly even moved in her sleep, so she was closer to Kíli. Personally, she didn't fault him or Fíli for still lying there asleep, since they'd been on watch last night. Thorin, on the other hand, was glaring at those still sleeping with decreasing patience, as if he could will them to wake just by striking fear into their hearts with his stare. To save the brothers from having holes burned in them courtesy of Thorin's glares, she began to nudge at Kíli's shoulder, willing herself not to blush at the impropriety of sleeping so near to the two young dwarves (never mind between them).

He grumbled and eventually opened a dark-lashed eye, and once the eye focused on her, Eisa said "Good morning, sleepyhead" quietly, so as not to aggravate him. She, for one, despised being woken by loud noises and confusion.

"Morning," he lamented, but struggled upright all the same.

Satisfied, and guessing that they were probably almost as used to life on the road as she was, Eisa turned to the brother on her right, but he was already stirring. She chalked it up to a fraternal bond thing and went to go grab a few bites of breakfast for the road, careful to sufficiently test her injured leg before walking on it. She was just barely reduced to limping, and made a worthy effort not to call anyone's attention to it, especially if they were of the line of Dúrin.

"I almost forgot. How do you feel?"

Well, so much for that attempt. "It's just fine, I think," Eisa said breezily, turning to Kíli with a smile.

"That's a relief!" he chirped brightly. "We wouldn't want you incapacitated, would we?"

She had to mull over what he meant by that, and concluded that all in all it was better to be useful than semi-useless.

And still he insisted on following her along from mere inches away, right up until when she finally mounted Daisy for the day. Getting him to carry on with his own business after he was so adamant about helping her onto the pony had practically required her pulling a weapon on him.

If possible, the rain had come back even heavier after the previous day's clear spell. "At least we were dry for the night," Eisa heard Dwalin grunt once they were on the road. Deciding to take it as a backhanded compliment, or at the least a small vote of approval from the surly dwarf, she grinned to herself under her hood and immediately wondered why she felt so accomplished. However, the thought was swiftly overtaken by one of food. Her stomach gurgled pleadingly, and she bemoaned her swift metabolism. It was tempting to scrounge for something in her pack—she still had days' worth of food in there—but that would be rude and she would feel selfish. Besides, she didn't know how long her private supplies might have to last her, once she left.

Once she left.

The thought had to be spelled out stubbornly.

She didn't want to leave, and she knew it. There was no fooling herself; not by now, after so much time spent with only herself as company. She knew herself well, very well, but what she couldn't put her finger on was one of the reasons for her reluctance to part ways with the Company.

One reason, plain and simple, was that the ragtag troop was wonderful. She had never traveled in a group like this, but she was certain that it was an exceptional gathering of rather exceptional people. They were all so intriguing in their own unique ways; she couldn't even describe it. Nonetheless, she knew that her companions themselves were the main pull.

Second came the thrill of the adventure, and not only because of their fire-breath-avoiding, death-defying end goal. Oh yes, she had picked up on that. It wasn't difficult to figure out, what with the talk of wizards and a quest with a hidden purpose coupled with her little epiphany concerning the identity of the Company's leader. Not to mention Kíli's minor slip-up about the dragon. All in all, it made for some rather exciting prospects down the road that she was hardly inclined to shy away from.

There was a third reason, too, but that was what wouldn't quite surface. It was irritating her like an itch in the middle of her back that she couldn't quite reach, but she supposed she would figure it out before too long. So she wiggled her shoulder blades around and didn't waste time worrying about it.

* * *

"Eisa? Have you some free time?"

Eisa looked up at Kíli, who was standing over her with a look that reminded her a bit of plot-forming. They had made camp for the night, and she was indeed unoccupied. "Of course. What is it?"

"It's a secret," he whispered loudly—in other words, he just wanted to aggravate her—and held out a hand to help her up. "Come on."

"Fair enough," she agreed warily, letting him pull her to her feet (even though her ankle had actually stopped aching for the most part) and following him out past the edge of the camp. "Kíli, what are we doing?" she sighed as he settled himself on the trunk of a fallen tree.

"_I'm helping you with your Khuzdul. The only thing is that the hobbit and technically the wizard can't hear us. Which is why we're out here!_" The brunette grinned and spread his arms expansively, referring to the secrecy inherent in the use of the dwarven language.

Speaking of which, it took Eisa more than a moment to work through his words in her head. "Oh, this shall be fun," she muttered in the common tongue, taking a seat on the log to cross her legs underneath her and face Kíli. "_I listen and I understand a lot better than I speak it_," she then warned him in Khuzdul.

"_We'll have to fix that then, will we not?_" Kíli smiled invitingly. "_Go on, talk about anything you like_."

She decided to talk about what she had done while staying in the Shire: a good, safe topic. But fifteen minutes later, it was apparent to them both that Eisa was having some trouble. Kíli was secretly very impressed both with what she had learned in such a short period of time (he had had continued schooling for years on end) and what she had retained despite the lack of practice. But she had either forgotten or had never been taught some nuances here and there, and her Westron accent often slipped through.

"_Ah, no_," he corrected her. "'_Tabadumum' is to climb up, remember? 'Tabadif' is to climb down_."

"_I've always confused those_," Eisa groaned. Kíli was a decent teacher, she supposed, if entirely too enthusiastic about the whole thing.

"_And your pronunciation isn't quite right. Here, watch the way I say it: ta-ba-dif_."

She'd admit it; she was a bit jealous. He'd had a proper education, probably tutored alongside his brother as they grew into their tween years. His vocabulary was clearly not a thrown-together mishmash of whatever he could pick up, and he formed the words with ease, his usual accent somehow meshing perfectly with the cacophonic sounds.

"_Ta-ba-dif_," she repeated obediently.

"_Good. Go on. What happened the next day?_"

"_Well, I'd been told to seek a…a…food-and-drink-place…_"

"_A beer-hall? A tavern,_" Kíli provided.

"_Yes, a tavern. And it was called the Green Dragon. So I went—it wasn't difficult to find—and I met the most amusing folk there,_" Eisa chuckled. "_All the way to dawn I spent there, and I didn't even realize it until the sun began to come in through the windows to the east._"

Kíli laughed: a bright, warm sound. "_You see, I knew you had it in you to have some fun._"

"_And what does that mean?_" Eisa crossed her arms and mock glared at him, but she was honestly a bit curious.

"_You just seemed so…straitlaced, at first_." He shrugged, unperturbed. The look on her face fell just short of comprehension. "_That__ means, uh, upright. Proper. And really polite. Friendly, but, I don't know…too dignified?_"

"_Your point being?_"

He was definitely digging himself a hole. "_No, no, what I mean is…you didn't seem like you'd be much fun. But you are. Fíli and I think you're interesting. That's what we told Uncle, you know, that first night._"

The dwarf maid's eyebrows rose. "_You did? That was…kind of you._"

"_Well, it's true_," Kíli justified innocently. He watched with self-satisfaction as his words set in, and smiled widely before getting back down to business. "_Now then. Can you repeat the word for _dawn_ again?_"

"_Abkûnd?_" Eisa wrinkled her nose, wondering what she had done wrong this time as she tried not to blush from Kíli's sideways compliments. It didn't help that he had taken to staring at her intently whenever he was concentrating particularly hard on what she was saying.

"_Say it like you mean it_," he teased her.

"_Abkûnd__."_

"_Nope,_" he declared, but without judgment. "_Abkund. You're making it plural._"

She huffed. "_What's the difference?_"

"_The plural has a circumflex._" He got another blank look and started motioning with his hands. "_You know, the little pointy thing above the 'u'?_"

"_Ohh, of course, of course!_" She snapped her fingers in comprehension. "_And it makes the sound, um…longer, or shorter?_"

"_Which do you think?_" He smiled indulgently. "_Abkund, or abkûnd?_"

Sighing in resignation, Eisa found herself focusing closely on the way his mouth moved. It was probably just her slight envy talking. Still, she couldn't help but take notice of his full lower lip and the endearing little bow to his upper. And he had such a charming smile.

"_I'm going to say…the longer is the plural._"

"_Well done_," he congratulated her. "_We'll make you fluent yet!_"

And so they went on, each learning a new thing or two.

* * *

"And then there came this horrendous wailing, from what sounded like the deepest part of the mines. It was a horrible screeching, and it echoed all round the caves and down the passages," Balin told his captivated audience two nights later around the campfire. "We were sure it was goblins; it wouldn't be the first time, after all. So Thorin gathered a troop of us and we scoured the mines, but suddenly…the noise had gone." Snowy eyebrows lifted ominously. "We were on our guard. And just when we were nearly out of our skins with anxiety, Thorin heard a sound. There was a quiet noise, a whimpering noise coming from a mineshaft. He approached cautiously, suspecting trickery. The darkness was too deep, and he threw a torch down the chute to seek out what was waiting at the bottom.

"But all he found," the old dwarf smiled knowingly, "were two very surprised, very frightened little dwarflings."

Most of the dwarves made amused noises of comprehension, but Eisa didn't get the joke.

Balin went on, "The sons of Dís had ventured a mite too far into the mines that night. And could you imagine why?" He looked right at Fíli and Kíli, almost beginning to shake with laughter. "They didn't want to take their baths."

Fíli protested that it had all been Kíli's fault while Kíli spluttered and his cheeks grew pink. Eisa, meanwhile, burst out laughing. To think that it had all sounded so dangerous and serious, while really it was just another misadventure of the young princes.

"I didn't like baths," grumbled Kíli, crossing his arms childishly.

"What do you mean? You still don't!" chortled Fíli at his brother's expense.

Thorin should have been chuckling at the plight of his nephews, but instead, his mood was rapidly deteriorating.

He wanted to see Kíli and Fíli happy. More than anything, he wanted them safe and sound. They should be laughing together, poking fun at one another, whispering together as only brothers who were best friends could.

And they were. If you ignored the presence of their little tagalong, that is.

The three got along alarmingly well, now riding in a trio during the day. They would often have their heads together and seemed to have developed their own private jokes. Around the fire, they always sat together, and took their meals by each other's sides. The brothers even slept near the girl, which would have been completely improper even if they had not had a royal duty and a degree of integrity to uphold.

And what was more, the two were only smoothing the way for the girl to become better acquainted with the other members of the Company. Thorin couldn't give two coppers about the hobbit, but his Company of dwarves was not to be infiltrated by some too-friendly mutt. It led him to wonder if he was the only one left with a sense of decency anymore.

At the moment, as the Company was gathered around the campfire listening to old stories, he couldn't help but begin to fidget uncomfortably (although he was a king and would never admit to succumbing to such a nervous habit). He would have had to be both blind and deaf to miss the way that the three young dwarves were interacting, and even then he thought he might be able to feel it in the air. It was companionship. And he was sure that his nephews were looking at the girl the same way they had looked at that neglected mutt years ago. They watched her with a bit of intrigue and a touch of curiosity, but mostly companionable affection.

If he didn't know better, he would say that Fíli and Kíli had made friends with the stray traveler.

No; the king was not pleased at all. And that night, it didn't take long for it to just become all too much for him to handle.

"Miss Eisa." He had refused to drop the formality. "May I have a word?"

It was a command, not even a request, and Eisa stood quickly from her seat on the ground next to Kíli. "Of course." She brushed at the fronts of her breeches absently, wiping away imaginary dirt, and followed Thorin a ways when he began to walk away from the campsite.

When he finally stopped and turned on her, he didn't give her much time to collect her thoughts. "Why do you stay?" he demanded.

_Why do I…what?_ "If I've caused any undue inconveniences, I was unaware, but allow me to apolog—" she began in confusion, ever striving for the appropriate politeness.

"You distract my nephews. Do not think I have not taken notice," he said accusatorially.

"And you need not worry about _that_, sir," Eisa frowned, a bit affronted. "They are good companions and nothing more. You told me yourself that they were good lads." It probably wasn't wise to try and corner him, but she couldn't help herself. Wasn't it a bit late to be throwing grievances around?

"...Indeed," Thorin gritted out. "They are. But they are becoming too comfortable, and as for the matter of comfort, our quest is no place for a woman." He did that thing again where he stretched out his spine, like he was trying to make his already impressive frame even more intimidating.

She swallowed and struggled to keep her words measured. "Do you think I fear the way through the Misty Mountains or the darkness of Mirkwood? Or perhaps the fiery breath of Smaug? I know your goal," she enlightened him, trying to keep from seeming condescending.

His eyes had widened considerably, and he advanced on her. "Who told you?" he barked, already preparing a mental tirade against Kíli.

"No one told me," she replied, genuinely surprised. "I simply figured it out on my own." He looked like he didn't believe her for a moment, so she went on. "Thorin Oakenshield, the rightful king of Erebor, traveling eastward from Ered Luin with a faithful Company of dwarves with the addition of Gandalf the Grey and a hobbit who's been referred to as said Company's Burglar? Did you think I would not realize?"

"I did not consider it," the king acknowledged grudgingly. Now he was in a right mess. If the girl left, who knew whom she could tell? No one beyond his kin was to know, and although he did not like to admit it, he hadn't in fact thought that the vagrant might work out their journey's purpose on her own. Although, he reminded himself, she could still be lying. "And this does not deter you from the road ahead? There is nothing for you to gain by following along with us. It is more likely that you meet your death first," he predicted harshly.

He also didn't appreciate how this didn't seem to faze her much. She shrugged unassumingly. "I have no larger commitments or purpose in my life. Is it so wrong that I should desire to be of help to you on your quest?"

"And what makes you think that we need such help? Any of which I doubt you could offer," he added scathingly, looking her up and down.

"I do not mean to insult you, Thorin Oakenshield," Eisa said exasperatedly. Her patience was dwindling, and his needling wasn't helping. "I realize how important this is to you and your folk. Your purpose is your birthright; it is in your blood. And I cannot explain my wish to do whatever I can to aid you in that, because I myself have never had a home or belonged anywhere in my life!"

Thorin drew himself up to his full height, not all that much taller than her in reality but achieving the desired effect. It was unlikely that he detected the sudden bite of bitterness in her words, and even if he had, he would not have taken the time to try to understand it. His dark blue eyes snapped dangerously as he warned her in a low growl: "Do not presume to speak to me of having no home."

"But you did have one," Eisa said, her voice suddenly soft, as though she was speaking about something too beautiful and precious for words. "It never left from inside of you. I can see it." Her own gaze hardened, and she couldn't rein herself in. "Although I don't know why, since I have never had a thing."

"And what is worse?" the king challenged, stepping closer to her. "To have never known something at all, or to value it more than anything in the world only to lose it?"

"I cannot answer that question either way without doubting what I say," she replied stiffly and altogether honestly. Her chest had begun to heave with things contained, and if she had been entirely in command of herself, she would have noticed the angry heat that was spreading up her neck to her cheeks. Then she did something that she couldn't control: she reciprocated the king's step forward and got right up in his face, a sign of aggression that almost no one would dare to make. "But I will say that in your loss, at least you've had each other," she ground out in a hiss, tearing off the end of each word and spitting it out.

And with that, she spun on her heel and stalked away from the king, breaking into a run when she hit the trees.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **ApologiesinadvanceforthelengthatworkheresoI'mjustg onnagoaheadandeliminatethatriskbyomittingspaceshop efullythathelpskaythanksbye. Iownonlymyownridiculousoriginalities!

**A/N: **Whew! Back. I have very few adequate words for my incredible experiences in Peru. And this is me we're talking about, here; I don't just run out of words! It wasn't entirely just seeing nature at work in amazing and strange ways in the Amazon, or even the wonders of the ancient people who built Machu Picchu and just casually climbed those huge-ass mountains to get news all the way across the Inca empire in a mere two weeks. It was the land itself - I've never seen anything like the Andes region. This is stuff you just plain can't get on camera. The massive scale aside, the perspective is a whole 'nother challenge to tackle, never mind the feeling that your heart just wants to press right out of your chest (and for once it isn't just the altitude talking). It's so beautiful that it hurts. As a result, I've resolved to work out some way to do an art study abroad in college that involves backpacking through New Zealand. Because 1) LOTR etc. filming, 2) mountains, and 3) me. That's about all I need. I'm a creature of the elements, of land and air, fire and water. I don't need much more to feel alive.

So I mean I guess I highly recommend the area to others :) Although if you take all the times I've been stared at in my life and combined them all, the amount my group and I got stared at in Lima far outweighs that. It was pretty much our whiteness and stature, to be honest. I'm tall already, and Peruvians are in general dark-skinned and shorter. And they don't exactly get many tourists, so I guess it makes sense. Let's not go into the hordes of teenage boys trying to take our pictures. That is a whole other barrel of worms or whatever the expression is.

SO! Many thanks throughout this too-long waiting period to: **Hiding in the Shadow** (oh you are so, so right, my dear :), **i am a Fire-jay** (indeed she is, chuckle), **ZabuzasGirl** (I try :P), **FlamePumpkin32**, **Snittycakez** (haaaaahahaha), **AemiKili** (indeed!), **Guest** (awww, yay :), **Belliwing** (thanks! here it comes at last :), **ChaoticLogic**, **Ayrtha21keybladewielder**, **Pyrassion** (ooh why thank you!), **Bandersnatch16**, **F4llingToGrace**, **the Random Olliphaunt**, **DrAnime203**, **dingbat1723**, **pacifica** **somnia**, **Marie3009**, **Reikal**, **Lady of Myth and Legends**, **moon.****maniac2012** (I feel so loved :'D), and as always, **all the readers**!

Enjoy, lovelies! Thanks for waiting :)

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

_In Which There Are A Few Minor Revelations, For Better Or For Worse_

Eisa returned to the camp not long later. The sky was beginning to darken, and Bofur and Bombur would be starting supper soon. She didn't want to worry Fíli and Kíli by missing it.

"Bofur?" she addressed quietly, coming back into camp as subtly as she could. "This could help."

The dwarf stared somewhat blankly at the rabbit that Eisa was holding out to him. "You weren't joking, then," he stated.

He was referring to her unladylike claim that she could catch anything with a trap. "No, but this I got with a throwing knife," she admitted. "Lucky shot, really. Would you like me to skin it, too?" Her mouth quirked to the side, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"No, that's all right. Bombur?" Bofur took the rabbit by its hind legs and handed it to his brother. "Thanks very much, Miss Eisa," he said in honest appreciation.

"Think nothing of it," she nearly sighed, and walked away, probably to Fíli and Kíli.

Bombur and Bofur looked from each other to the rabbit, then to each other again. There was very little blood on it, and upon further investigation, it was apparent that she had achieved such a clean kill by flinging the throwing knife straight through its eye. The fat dwarf grunted his approval, and Bifur voiced his agreement in gravelly Khuzdul.

Kíli and Fíli stood immediately when they saw Eisa approaching.

"What did Uncle want?" asked Fíli.

"Where in Dúrin's name did you go?" demanded Kíli at the same time.

"All in good time, all in good time," Eisa chuckled dryly, sitting between them against a rock when they moved aside for her. She self-consciously smoothed back the braids at the back of her head with one hand and tried to figure out the best way to explain what had transpired.

Suddenly Kíli's eyes widened and he grabbed her hand and pulled it to him, turning it over almost frantically. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Eisa was going to ask him what he was talking about when she saw there was still some dried blood on her glove and fingers from carrying the rabbit. "Relax," she told him. But his concern warmed the pit of her stomach, and she smiled. "The blood isn't mine. I saw a rabbit in the woods and killed it—in fact, I've just given it to Bofur."

"Oh. Right." He released her hand and folded his own together in his lap.

"Really?" Fíli looked a bit impressed. "I didn't know you hunted."

"I don't, usually. It really just came right to me, so I guess I was being quieter than I realized," Eisa shrugged.

"But what _happened_?" pressed Kíli.

"Well." She sighed. "Let's put it this way: your uncle isn't terribly fond of me." At their looks that told her to elaborate, she obliged. "He asked me why I am still here. He's not very pleased with my presence, you know, and what's more, he said—" she began to blush but plowed on with determination— "he said I was…distracting you two."

Kíli might have reddened a bit as well, but Fíli snorted dismissively. "Uncle's paranoid, and I mean that in a very caring way. He's only trying to look out for us."

"Mm. Well, I'm already a problem, evidently, and it didn't make him very happy when I told him I know that your quest leads to Erebor," she mumbled. "Oh, but don't feel bad, Kíli," she reassured him. "Even if you hadn't dropped that bit about the dragon, I still would've figured it out."

The brothers stared at her, and Kíli's mouth began to open and close like that of a freshly caught fish. "Is Uncle angry with me, then?" he asked meekly.

Eisa grinned conspiratorially at him, feeling a bit better. "I didn't mention that part. Must have slipped my mind." Then she sobered. "I was too busy being insulted. No, that's not quite fair," she amended immediately. "We just…disagreed. I…lost my temper." Looking down at her hands rather than at either of the brothers, she fiddled with her gloves.

"Disagreed over what?" Fíli asked.

"I'm not sure I even know," Eisa realized. "Perhaps the validity of my arguments. He doesn't trust me worth beans; I hope you know that."

"We do," grimaced Kíli. He shared a determined look with his brother that the young woman didn't see. "We do."

* * *

An hour or two later, Eisa was absentmindedly tying tiny knots in strands of grass in her lap. Supper was already over, and the camp was settling down, but she got the feeling that sleep wouldn't take her so readily tonight.

Suddenly, she flipped her head up abruptly from her mindless task. The dwarves had begun to hum softly a moment ago, as a group and as they often did in the evenings, but somehow she recognized this tune over all the others before. Bofur and Dori began to sing the quiet melody, and the dwarf maid nearly gasped aloud.

She drew her knees up to her chest and spent the next few moments in a sort of daze, sifting through fragments of memory and the tune to a song whose words were long forgotten to her. It wasn't until all the verses of the song came gently to a close that she became aware that she had lost track of time and space entirely for those several minutes. And she only realized that she had cried a bit when she felt a warm finger brush her cheek to come away tinged with moisture.

Resisting the urge to shake herself and then stubbornly bury her head in the ground, she met Kíli's warm brown eyes a bit defensively. But instead of whatever she had been expecting, she only saw upturned brows and a grieved pout on his face.

"Don't be sad," he told her simply.

She couldn't maintain eye contact with him, and, deciding something, held up a finger to tell him that she would speak after a moment. Lowering her head and breathing into her knees, she tried to organize her thoughts and eventually came out with a simple muffled statement: "I know that song."

Fíli and Kíli looked at each other over her back with three parts worry, two parts curiosity, and one part helplessness. They decided it was best to maintain silence, and it didn't appear that anyone else had noticed anything amiss.

Once she started, something strange came over her and she simply couldn't stop. "Someone who took care of me used to sing it to me all the time. I don't remember ever knowing all the words, because not long after I left I suppose I'd forgotten them. I just knew that it made me proud of my people, or the ones who could have been my people, but of course I didn't realize the significance, I mean, I was raised in a tavern, not in great halls under the mountains, and I never made—" She halted, surprised, as though someone else had been speaking using her voice. "A-anyway," she stuttered, glancing not quite at the faces of the princes on either side of her and attempting a shaky smile. "Maybe now I can relearn the words properly, hm?"

That night, the brothers laid out their bedrolls on either side of her (with her permission, of course) and, despite their being on the verge of tone-deaf, hummed her into drowsiness to soothe her mind.

* * *

The next day, the weather finally broke for good. The sky remained overcast, though, as the Company plus Eisa made their way over another hillock. Another hillock with more trees. And rocks. Lots of rocks. And some more dirt, and some more scrubby undergrowth. On another hillock. With rocks.

Although it was still very pretty in its untamedness, Eisa supposed, this part of Eriador was in serious danger of dropping in its landscape ratings due to relative monotony. Amon Sûl had been interesting while they passed within range of it, but in all honesty, there just wasn't that much to see.

That was why she had taken to studying her companions instead, as the day began to dim prematurely due to the cloud cover. Not surprisingly, her grayish-brown gaze kept wandering its way over to Fíli and Kíli's backs.

The two might seem similar, but Eisa had come to realize that in reality they were like night and day: so different, yet fusing effortlessly at the edges. Where one might be reckless, the other was cautious, but they managed to have fun without doing anything entirely too foolhardy. They might finish each other's sentences, but speaking at the same time could just as easily result in simultaneous answers of "absolutely" and "absolutely not." And yet one never seriously belittled the other, and would attack anyone foolish enough to do so. They were brothers in more than blood.

Besides that, you had to look closely to be able to tell that they could even be related. Fíli's neatly waving blond hair and even braids were a stark contrast to Kíli's loose dark locks, and the eyes of sky blue and rich earthen brown were about as far apart as one could get. And although they were both relatively slim for dwarves, Kíli was the leaner of the two, not to mention that he had apparently not inherited outstanding beard-growing potential or an impressive nose. (Eisa wondered absently if he was secretly self-conscious about these shortcomings. In her opinion, he looked just fine, but everyone knew that a magnificent beard was the way to get all the dwarven women.) But after the several days spent with the two, their physical similarities were clear to Eisa. They had the same tendency to stare intently at things, albeit in their own ways, and occasionally smirk secretively. They had the same bend to their upper lips and the same ears, and carried similar swaggers even when they weren't trying. Which, granted, wasn't often.

And of course, they were quite good-looking. To her, at least. Mahal knew she hadn't been raised with dwarven standards, but she liked to think that she could recognize a handsome man when she saw one. Those sorts of qualities tended to run in families anyhow, she thought as she watched Fíli trot up next to Thorin. The king would be a lot nicer-looking if he would stop scowling all the time, besides. She liked his carefree nephews much better, and that thought reminded her of the way she had lost both her temper and her composure the night before. She smiled softly at the princes' backs, but then frowned at the remainder of the memories and went back to studying the landscape.

Fíli, meanwhile, had a purpose in riding close to Thorin. "I thought it was bad manners to argue with a woman, Uncle," he greeted him with what they both knew was false innocence.

"She went running to you, did she?" Thorin somewhat sneered.

"Hardly," his nephew frowned. "I had to force out of her what went on." He had cornered Eisa earlier that morning when Kíli was out of earshot, and as he had suspected, it was for some reason easier to get the details out of her then.

"And?" prompted Thorin, implying that he get to the point already.

"Forgive me for this, but had you been any other dwarf, her actions would have been entirely appropriate," stated Fíli bluntly.

"In what way?"

"You insulted her unnecessarily and without cause."

Thorin got the distinct feeling that Fíli was warming up in preparation to recite a long list. "How so?" he felt he had to ask. He would probably regret it, as he shouldn't be allowing his nephew to speak his mind with such freedom in the first place. While the due respect that the boys had always shown him hadn't slipped in the slightest, the strict control that he exercised over what they were permitted to say to him had lapsed a bit over the past decade or so as they matured. And although he wouldn't publicly admit it, it was becoming increasingly valuable to at least listen to what they had to say.

"She is not exactly unintelligent, nor is she without use. Are you aware that she killed part of last night's supper without even trying?" Fíli didn't seem likely to slow down, and against his better judgment and perhaps out of exhaustion, Thorin let him get it all out of his system. "She's been nothing but polite to you this whole time, and have you seen the way she looks at you? You're a legend, Uncle. A hero. And not just any hero; you're a hero of our people. Her people. Don't you realize what she said to you?" he demanded further when Thorin looked like he was about to protest.

The king paused in his version of surprise, and it was clear to his nephew that he was completely unaware of where Fíli was going with this.

"Oh, come on, Uncle," Fíli muttered, clearly convinced that his king had no sense at all. "She gave it right to you."

Still nothing.

"Why she wants so badly to remain with us!" he revealed in exasperation. "She might not say it outright, but she admitted to me that she doesn't want to leave. She's not going to just take off in the middle of the night and abandon us and tell the whole of the countryside that you're off to Erebor—yes, I've thought of that," he put in at Thorin's double take. "And she was being honest when she said she wants to help us. Do you know why she wants us to regain our homeland?" It was another rhetorical question. "Because she has never had one. All these years she's been alone, completely alone, never settling anywhere, never having a family or even a people to call her own. She's trying to empathize with us, and you know, she's right. We're not all that different."

The lash of Eisa's parting words came back to Thorin. _In your loss, at least you've had each other!_ That had been bitterness, he suddenly realized. There was nothing else that it could have been. The girl did not share information willingly, and her outburst was most revealing now that he thought of it.

Which, of course, he didn't want to. He clamped his jaw shut and looked at his nephew, whose cheeks had reddened slightly with his blustering. Nodding tightly, he nonverbally dismissed Fíli, who had expected quite a bit more of a reaction and was left wondering whether he had done more good or more harm.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **I can only fantasize. Although with my imagination, I don't know, that could turn out alright...

**A/N: **So maybe a nice long chapter will make you all happy :) Personally I'm just glad I'm healthy again. I survive for ten days in Peru with my stomach of steel while the majority of my group has internal distress in one direction or the other or both (hey, it's the ugly truth), only to catch a freaking chest cold on the plane on the return trip. Anyway, I no longer sound like a chainsmoker, so I guess that's a plus.  
I adore this chapter. I do. For so many reasons.  
Thanks to **Hiding in the Shadow** (Yes! Oh, good, I think you're catching on to my subliminal messaging here. Hmm, now why wouldn't she talk to Kili? Inexplicable slight embarassment that makes her want to not seem weak or oversensitive to him? ;) And Thorin will, in his own way, come around eventually...), **Belliwing** (Off to the adventuring! :D), **KiliFiliGwaineHusbands** (Aw thaaanks :), **ZabuzasGirl** (You are persistent, aren't you? :P), **petraaa93**, **Guest** (Glad you liked it! Well, I would've updated like mad over break, but instead I decided to fry all your brains o.O Hahaha), AemiKili (Oh thank you dear :), **FalconGyr**, **LittleJerseyanNinja**, **Rysgirl34**, **Wings of Tears**, **Idon'thaveacluewhatI'mdoing**, **Undead Artist**, and **all the lovely and patient readers**!  
Enjoy, lovely patient ones! (And, I mean, maybe the ones who aren't so patient, too.)

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

_In Which There is Lots of Splashing About and Even More Asking About_

~A few days later~

"Here, Fíli, grab me that stone, would you?" Eisa pointed past the blonde dwarf.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

"The round one with the sort of flattish side."

"Mm, still nothing."

"The one that looks exactly like the one you're using, you nincompoop."

"Ahh, I see, that one! Here you go." Fíli selected the desired rock from the thousands littering the riverbank, but flung it straight over the dwarf maid's head to Kíli, who snagged it out of the air with a mischievous grin.

The Company had happened upon a small, lazy river as they stopped to make camp for the night, two days later. Everyone was enjoying the clean running water, washing various pieces of clothing and implements, not to mention themselves. But of course one had to be careful with a lady around, which was why it was good that the river was a meandering one with lots of out-of-sight places. Eisa, Fíli, and Kíli had all decided to do their washing together in the high summer heat, and had occupied a large rock at the edge of the river to scrub their clothes out on after changing into spares. And somehow, Eisa's scrubbing implements kept getting pilfered.

"Oi, Fíli! Is this yours?" Kíli tossed the stone back with a chortle. Eisa yelped in mock indignation.

"Of course not, Brother. I gave it to you, now didn't I?"

The elder of the brothers passed the dratted stone from hand to hand, keeping it infuriatingly out of Eisa's reach as the other two began to laugh, and eventually she just decided to hang it all and lunged at Fíli.

"You insufferable pair of dwarves!" she accused, laughing as Fíli tried to defend himself and Kíli joined the pile, trying to pry her off his brother. They all rolled over a few times in a right mess, the stone long gone by now, and ended up with Fíli feigning mortal injury and Eisa sitting triumphantly on a groaning Kíli's back. "See, now this is what happens."

"What happens when _what?_" Kíli complained, slightly muffled, as she got off him quickly.

"When you mess around and then go easy on me. You won't be making that mistake again." She stuck her tongue out childishly and went to return to the laundry.

Fíli turned to Kíli slowly, his eyebrows rising suggestively. "Really," he drawled.

"That's very…interesting," said Kíli in a suddenly husky tone.

Eisa cocked her head to the side and swiveled in puzzlement to ask what they were going on about—although great Mahal, Kíli had a nice voice—and was met with a positively roguish grin from the dark-haired dwarf. It took her a second, but she caught onto their little joke.

"Oh, for all that's—grow up!" she scoffed, turning her back on them again and pretending that she wasn't trying to stamp down a blush.

The two released a few loud bellows of laughter, and Eisa plopped down with her laundry again. She swiped Fíli's scrubbing stone.

Unfortunately, though, she had no chance to gloat, for as soon as she looked up again, she discovered the two dwarven princes stripping off their jerkins, tunics, and boots, and charging into the river whooping and hollering. Whether their racket was from excitement or the surely frigid temperature of the water with just their breeches and undershirts on was unclear, but they appeared to be enjoying themselves. Eisa's blush, of course, came back full force.

"Hooligans," she muttered.

"Oooh, look! Fish!" Ori suddenly crowed from the riverbank, pointing excitedly.

Immediately, all the dwarves eagerly scrambled to their feet at the mention of a potential sustainable food source, and watched as the brothers dove without hesitation into the deeper waters in the middle of the river. Dark shapes darted through the water around them, fighting the slow current to make their way upstream. Eisa clambered to the top of a boulder with a few other dwarves to get a better aerial view of the action, brushing off with irritation the way that her pulse picked up at the sight of Kíli dripping with water with his thin shirt clinging to his rather toned body. Ori egged Fíli on enthusiastically—whoever said that dwarves hated water after all?—while Thorin watched from a distance and made a valiant effort to appear impassive at his nephews' antics.

Kíli lost his balance without warning and toppled backwards head over heels, spluttering as he surfaced. Eisa bent over laughing, her hands on her knees as she teased him mercilessly about supposedly being sure-footed, when suddenly something hit her hard in the back and she shrieked all the way to the water below.

She'd just remembered to hold her breath, and as the world rushed into a state of muffled echoes and sluggish movements, she opened her eyes to find nothing but infinite bubbles surrounding her. The fall hadn't been far, so she bobbed to the surface almost right away, where she spat out half a mouthful of water and shook her head hard to clear her ears as she kept herself afloat with her legs.

"Who was that?!" she hacked, feeling very much like a drowned rat. The Company stilled a bit, wondering if she was truly angry—Bofur winced, as the guilty party—but then they realized that she was trying to laugh around her coughing.

Fíli and Kíli looked at each other from a few feet away. "That was payback!" they chorused gleefully, and lunged in an attempt to dunk her in order to bolster the score in their favor.

She yelped and ducked underwater again, diving beneath them and watching with satisfaction as they turned about in confusion. Their noises of puzzlement drifted down to her, hazy and framed by the weak pervading sunlight. To put them out of their misery—in case they thought she was drowning or something—she grabbed an ankle each and yanked them both underwater, shooting to the surface so she could release her cackles.

"Who's laughing now?" she boasted as most of the Company roared in approval.

The two grinned in appreciation as they resurfaced, and promptly commenced a splashing contest. Before too long, half the other dwarves had joined the trio and were having a grand time. This didn't include Thorin, of course, since the Nearly King Under the Mountain simply didn't engage in such frivolities.

Besides, he was still cross. Firstly, he was teed off at the girl, just for being—well. There. It only made it worse that he would have felt a lot better about his list of grievances with her if she wasn't so dratted _helpful_ when she could be, and even when she couldn't. She irritated him for trying, even more so when she succeeded, and that only made the rest of his Company warm up to her more, which presented a whole other slew of problems.

And he wasn't sure if he was more irked that Fíli had spoken to him like he had (although he would admit that he was glad the lad was learning to make a case, if a hotheadedly delivered one) or that the girl had been the cause of his nephew's short tirade.

Indeed, his own nephews had all but adopted the mutt. Thorin had nearly blown a gasket when he'd spotted the three of them curling up to sleep together for the first time. It was utter madness. He'd seen the way they looked at her, and it threw him for an unwilling loop because he couldn't remember the two ever having a friend that close. And they didn't even know the child! With all their luck, she was half elven, or something equally offensive. Although he hoped for everyone's sakes that she was not.

Moreover, it drove him mad that the girl was not, admittedly, a horrid person, nor was she unskilled in the ways of the world. At worst she seemed well-meaning, and at best…well, he didn't even want to think about thinking the word 'valuable.' Thorin was just thankful that the inconveniently approving wizard had had the sense not to push the issue of the girl and pull the "more than meets the eye" shite again, because he just might have lost it. It was true that initially the girl had come off as, perhaps, agreeable. But she was detached. She would ask questions politely, but tended to not dig deeper than the surface value. It was something that came of many years on the road, Thorin supposed, not unlike himse—

Rule number one when dealing with strange females: _no empathy_. Or even sympathy.

Anyhow, now the stray was downright friendly with nearly all of the Company. Maybe a bit too friendly, he thought with a near-growl as he surveyed the youngsters frolicking about in the river and spotted Kíli guffawing with laughter at something the girl had said.

His expression softened a bit. The happiness radiating from both his nephews was practically palpable. His young, innocent, overzealous nephews, whom he only wanted the best for in this world.

But this whole—matter—was not the best for them. Clearly.

Bilbo, in the meantime, had been coerced by that little Tookish corner of his mind that loved merriment and mischief to meander over closer to the riverbank to watch the fun. He padded over the stones on quiet hobbit feet and sat down against a rock, soon finding it in himself to chuckle quietly at the antics of the youngsters, although on second thought a good number of them were easily twice his age.

The young lady in particular appeared to be having a wonderful time. Bilbo only wondered how long it would take before—

A huff interrupted his thoughts and he nearly jumped. Just a few yards to his right sat Thorin, his back to a tree and looking crabbier than usual despite the fair weather and the cheer of the rest of the Company.

The hobbit suddenly felt very self-conscious, and attempted to blend in with the scenery. However, the king didn't appear to notice him, absorbed in his own grouchy thoughts, and Bilbo relaxed after a moment and could focus on the rest of the group again. Gandalf had wandered off somewhere and would probably be back soon, but Bilbo couldn't help but feel more insecure than usual when the wizard wasn't in the immediate vicinity. After all, he wasn't a dwarf. And he was very little like them, for that matter, he thought with a sigh as he watched the youngest trio in the river with a touch of wistfulness. Perhaps that was the very reason why Miss Eisa was always so sweet to him.

Meanwhile in the river, Kíli braced his legs and helped his brother launch himself through the air. Fíli completed most of a backflip before crashing to the surface of the river with a loud smack that elicited a combination of laughs and groans from those watching. Dori had coaxed his baby brother into the water, and Ori wouldn't stop patting his still-dry braids fretfully until Nori and Bofur snuck up behind him and struck with a tidal wave that left the young dwarf sopping wet. Bombur's fat had proved to serve as an excellent flotation device, and he paddled about contentedly under Bifur's silent but watchful eye. The older, more conservative dwarves had of course opted out of getting drenched, but that didn't mean they were opposed to having a good laugh over those who didn't mind. Even Dwalin cracked a smile while his brother sat back on his heels and chortled from time to time.

Eisa made her way over to Ori immediately upon realizing that he couldn't swim, and had just helped him get the hang of treading water with Dori's help when she was suddenly seized from behind. She spun around quickly and was already laughing when Kíli snatched her up by the waist and proceeded to whirl her around in a circle fast enough to make her dizzy, and her cheeks hurt from grinning by the time he released her. Slipping from his grasp, she landed right up against him with her hands gripping his shoulders. They both paused a moment to catch their breaths.

"You're a right mess," Kíli chose to comment frankly, reaching up and smoothing back a wild stray lock of Eisa's hair.

"You should see yourself, O great prince," she teased back.

"No, I don't think I want to," he said with a mock serious shaking of his head.

She was going to find some clever way to reply, when she looked right into his dark eyes—good heavens, they were close—and suddenly felt a horrendous wrench from somewhere between her backbone and the pit of her stomach that danced up into the bottom of her ribcage and nearly made her shiver.

She had felt those bone-deep thrills of terror in her gut before, and this was not that. Nor was it an ordinary stomach pain, nor a cramp from the gifts of womanhood. In fact, the sensation was completely unfamiliar to her. She didn't know what it was and wasn't sure if she ever wished to feel it again.

But she didn't think he even noticed as her face inexplicably began to feel hot, because a second later, a certain mischievous blonde dwarf splashed a disproportionate amount of water at the two of them and fled, cackling.

Eisa yelped and wiped the water from her eyes, then charged off after the miscreant with the strange sensation she'd felt pushed to the back of her mind. Kíli watched her with an odd expression on his face for just an instant, but he blinked and the old grin was back as he took off after his brother.

Thorin's back went ramrod straight without warning and he nearly exploded right then and there. _What_ was it that he had just thought about a too-friendly stray and his younger nephew again?! He had witnessed that little exchange, and he certainly saw the look that Kíli gave the girl in that short moment and it was _not_ eliciting warm and fuzzy feelings from his gut. Forget friendship; that was a look of significantly more than friendliness and he knew it. The former was bad enough in the first place, but no—

His mental tirade paused.

The hobbit was sitting mere feet from him, also watching the spectacle, and he was _chuckling_. With a knowing sort of smile, he crossed his ankles smugly.

Absolutely. Not.

The Practically King Under the Mountain would not stand for this.

* * *

~A couple hours later~

"Master Óin?"

The apothecary looked up to find the still slightly damp dwarf maid standing over him and fiddling with her hands.

"What can I do for you, lass?" he asked warily. He hadn't yet determined if he entirely approved of the ways and conduct of the newcomer, though he supposed it had been at least a fortnight since they set out from the Shire.

"Well, I have a…might I ask you a medical question, in private?" Eisa wrinkled her nose.

The old dwarf looked vaguely alarmed and appeared to begin to consider the best way to put something delicate.

"Oh my, no, it's nothing to do with being—female—I mean—" the girl stuttered, waving her hands nervously.

Óin exhaled in relief. "All right, then. Fair enough. Come and let me fetch my things; we'll go a bit of a ways down the river."

She watched him whisper a word or two to Thorin, who looked as though he couldn't care less whether she was mortally wounded or not, and winced slightly. The king was apparently still rather angry—more than usual, that is. But then she remembered why and her hackles rose, and she pointedly avoided looking at Thorin by sticking her nose in the air.

A bit down the riverbank, the two settled down on a few larger rocks, Óin setting down his satchel of medical supplies carefully. Evening had fallen during the dwarves' escapades in the river, but the rest of the Company could still clearly see their silhouettes in the near-dark.

"Now, what seems to be the trouble?" The healer cleared his throat.

"Well, I've had this…pain…in my gut recently." She rubbed self-consciously at her stomach, although no matter what she did, she'd been unable to locate the source of the sensation.

"Has this happened before?" he asked patiently, an eyebrow slowly inching up in skepticism.

"No, that's the thing; I've never felt something like this before," Eisa said hastily. "Each time it came and went briefly, for just a moment; it isn't indigestion or gas or anything of the sort."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Curious," Óin agreed grudgingly. It was difficult to tell whether he simply thought her an anxiety-prone flighty young dwarf or not. "Can you tell where the pain comes from? The stomach, perhaps, or the kidneys…?"

"I suppose it came from—well, sort of beneath my ribs, and sort of up into my chest, but not in the back, and not in my intestines, but not my stomach either." She hesitated. "This must sound terribly queer."

He grunted. "I've heard stranger, lass. Can you try to describe the pain?"

"I don't even know whether to call it 'pain' or not," Eisa sighed in irritation. "I mean, it was like…a shock, almost. It spread, sort of. Like I'd just fallen unexpectedly, or been struck by lightning, I imagine."

"I…see." It was evident that he wasn't even close to seeing.

"Did it perhaps feel a bit like a flock of butterflies had been let loose in your insides?" The sage voice emerged out of the darkness along with its owner, and after thoroughly startling Eisa and Óin, Balin's shape resolved itself. He smiled unapologetically. "Sorry. I was just scouting downriver and couldn't help but overhear."

"Quite all right, Balin," said Óin gruffly. "No harm done."

He nodded. "Well, lass?"

If she had been paying close attention, Eisa would have seen that Balin looked far more knowing than he should have, but she was too busy focusing on the truth of his words. "Yes," she replied in surprise. "Exactly like that. I never thought of it that way. Do you know what it is, then?" she asked warily.

Óin interrupted, not about to have his thunder stolen, even if he wasn't entirely sure what Balin was getting at. "Depends. Can you tell me what exactly was happening each time you experienced this…feeling?"

The young woman took a moment to think. "I suppose. The first time I noticed was when we were all in the river. Kíli—uh—picked me up, and we were joking with each other when I felt the…" She waved a vague hand around her stomach area. "…thing."

"The young prince? You don't say," murmured Balin.

Eisa wrinkled her nose, trying to come up with the second time it had happened, and was oblivious to the sharp look Óin shot Balin. Clearly his friend had thought of something the healer had not, and as it struck him, he and Balin shared a conspiratorial look. If their hunch was correct, this could prove most interesting.

"Mm-hm," Eisa confirmed absently. "Oh, I've got it. It happened again while we were all drying off on the bank. Fíli and Kíli and I were talking, and Kíli said something funny about—er, never mind—and, um." Drawing herself up short, she frowned slightly, knowing that she had simultaneously blushed furiously and felt the jolt in her gut as she had turned to Kíli and found his face much closer than she'd anticipated. "The next time, I took all our bowls after supper, and I took Kíli's from him, and, well—" She could have shrieked out loud. There was a pattern appearing now that she worked it through out loud, and she didn't know why that was making her heart pound.

Her hesitation spoke for itself in the eyes of the two other dwarves, even if they couldn't see her blush reappearing in the dark.

"I see," Óin repeated himself somewhat smugly.

"Indeed," agreed Balin with amusement.

"You do?" Eisa perked up instantly and sat up straight, fully willing to be distracted. "Do you know what's wrong with me? Is it some odd disease, or condition, or reaction to something—?"

"Now there, slow down, lass." Balin chuckled, well aware that the girl didn't see what was so funny here. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"Medically, at least," muttered Óin, unsure how he felt about the whole thing, and Balin tried not to glare at him. "Ahem. There does seem to be a pattern to when this strange feeling occurs, which is encouraging, so there should be no further problems."

Unfortunately, one of her eyes began to twitch at that. "So…are you saying…I'm allergic to Kíli?!"

Balin guffawed heartily at that. "_No_, lass, relax. It's perfectly normal for lots of people, especially young ones. There's nothing wrong with you being with young Kíli. No problem at all. In fact, it's probably good for you."

She bristled instead. "What's that supposed to mean? And _what _is 'it'?"

"Nothing, nothing, never mind," Óin broke in tactlessly. "Point is, you've nothing to be concerned about. So we can all just go and relax now." Feeling that his job here was done, he got to his feet and took his medical kit with him.

"Well, if you're sure," Eisa muttered, glancing down at herself suspiciously. She got the distinct feeling that she was missing something rather significant, but found that she didn't even want to try and pry into it. "Thank you anyhow." It was probably better that she not know, and besides, if nothing was legitimately wrong with her, then what was the worst that could happen?

Balin kept chuckling intermittently as they walked back towards camp, and Eisa gave up on directing odd looks at him because it didn't seem to make much of a difference.

"What's the matter with the lass?" Bofur asked with apprehension as Balin took a seat by him and produced his pipe.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all's the matter." He puffed away unconcernedly, smiling to himself.

Bofur turned to shrug at his taciturn cousin, who was seated by his other side, and watched in curiosity as the dwarf maid reclaimed her place by the heirs of Dúrin and nonchalantly waved off their questions. Fíli made some sarcastic comment around his pipe and Kíli came close to choking on his, followed by a witty comeback from Eisa that made Kíli shove her playfully.

"Although I must say, I think it's the first time someone's panicked and asked Óin if they're allergic to a person," the old dwarf went on in the meantime, almost to himself.

"Is that so?" uttered Bofur thoughtfully. Eisa was making valiant and increasingly clever attempts to snatch Kíli's pipe from his fingers.

Bifur grunted and muttered something for his cousin's ears alone. It sounded suspiciously like "âzyungâlh."

The toymaker nearly inhaled his tongue. "What do you mean, 'lovers'?" he scoffed quietly. "Do you know something I don't? Come on now, this is important." It didn't really matter that his cousin wasn't very communicative, axe fragment aside; Bofur rarely dropped his jesting tone.

"Udrûn," Bifur insisted, rolling his eyes.

"You know I have no patience—oh, I see. In the future, you mean?" The word could be translated roughly to mean 'more time.' Bofur got that fragment of a mischievous twinkle back in his eye. "Hmm. Interesting indeed."

One should never underestimate the gossip power of dwarves.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **I would say I dreamt of this, but I slept about two and a half hours last night, so, um...nope.

**A/N: **Woohoo! I don't know why, particularly, but Woohoo all the same. Woohoo for music, perhaps? I've just found some fantastic stuff.  
Awesome People Awards go to: **kaia **(That does seem obnoxiously strange, doesn't it? But never fear. It's totally logical and hopefully I do the explanation justice in this and further chapters :), **izzybr **(Thank you! Glad you're enjoying it :D), **ZabuzasGirl**, **Hiding in the Shadow **(X'D You have no idea just how much fun I was having writing a blustering Thorin. Actually, I just love writing him, period. Hurhurhur. We shall see!), **AemiKili** (Ahahaha! Glad that made you giggle :3), **Agony Born From Bliss**, **the Random Oliphaunt **(Hehehe, glad you enjoyed that...hey, I thought it would be a natural progression of thought...dear Mahal, she's me. That's the solution to all of this. o.O), **Joyce013**, **Elenya . Silverstar**, **biteyourtongue**, **Zombi3gyrl **(Ohhh, you just read THAT chapter. *waggles eyebrows* Yes, I enjoyed that little prank way too much x'D Glad you thought it worked! And thanks for the faves :3), and**all you dear readers**!

**Note About Recent Plot Developments: **Alright, alright, I can hear you already, saying that it's ridiculously stereotypical for the heroine to not realize/recognize her romantic feelings. That's what it looks like on the surface, sure. But I could go into an entire logic-and-psychoanalysis rant right here to justify Eisa's reaction to her "allergies?!" in the last chapter. BUT I won't, because as an author you're supposed to show the readers the characters' motives, etc., not tell them outright :) This same principle actually applies to something Thorin does in this chapter (the suspense...) and so I just ask that you trust that in the future, everyone's motives will be indirectly explained or at least make more sense. Okay thanks everyone bye. **Now read :)**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

_In Which Dwarves Analyze a Good Many Things_

Another hillock. With even more rocks. But this time, there stood what looked like the ramshackle remains of a modest cottage in the middle of a clearing.

This was where Thorin called a halt the next day, instantly commanding Kíli and Fíli to keep watch over the ponies and for Óin and Glóin to get a fire going. Eisa's spirits had lifted somewhat along with the weather, but she still dismounted gratefully at the thought of food. Daisy was probably famished as well, she thought as she detached her pack from the pony's saddlebags.

She sighed and tugged her gloves off absently, stuffing them in a pocket. "You're always good to me no matter what, isn't that right?" she praised Daisy, walking around to the mare's front to stroke her nose. "Yes, you're such a good girl. I feed you and in return you don't judge me." She chuckled quietly, finger-combing through the mare's sorrel-colored forelock. "Goodness. Your mane's getting to be as tangled as mine, isn't it?"

Kíli was about to share a comical observation with Eisa when he turned and saw her. She was holding a one-sided whispered conversation with Daisy, but that wasn't unusual. On the occasions when she wasn't simply talking to herself, she had a tendency to speak to animals rather than people. Her time with the Company had somewhat alleviated that, but what he presumed to be old habits died hard.

What made him pause a moment was her hands. She had taken her gloves off, and Kíli was certain he'd never seen her without them, because he surely would have noticed this before. Not only were her hands too small, but her fingers were downright skinny. A dwarf's hands were meant for dexterity but also for hard work, and slim graceful digits wouldn't get you very far.

However, Kíli couldn't bring himself to feel appalled at the disparity. On the contrary, he found her abnormal features a bit fascinating and almost endearing.

Eisa laughed out loud and brought him back to the present, making him realize he still had yet to dismount. The cinnamon-colored pony's whinnying as she tossed her head proudly made Kíli think of the mare's mistress when she'd just come up with a particularly clever retort, and he snorted lightly before sobering.

All this time, she'd been completely alone. He cast his eyes down guiltily as he unfastened his pack and extra weapons from the saddle. Fíli couldn't keep anything from him, and had told him all he'd learned on the road that day before going off to reprimand their uncle with the same information (Kíli was just surprised they were both still in one piece). True, it hadn't been his to tell, but Kíli didn't understand why Eisa hadn't just told them both about the circumstances of her past travels in the first place. Maybe she just liked Fíli better, he resigned himself to thinking. Women tended to do that.

Just then, Gandalf stalked by bellowing about seeking his own sensible company in favor of that of stubborn dwarves, leaving an awkward silence in his wake save for Bilbo's agitated chattering. Fíli exchanged a look with Kíli, unaware of his brother's thoughts, and jerked his head toward their crankier-than-usual uncle. Maybe Fíli had done more overall harm than good after all, they each thought with a grimace or two.

* * *

Eisa was sitting between the always friendly Bofur and an increasingly agitated Bilbo, feeling a bit out of place without her favorite pair of brothers but not hesitating to interact with the rest of the Company. With nothing better to do, she had begun to clean and sharpen her small double-headed axe. It had been a gift from the dwarves of Belegost, rumored to be the finest metal- and stone-workers in Middle Earth when their civilization had been at its peak, and she liked to keep it in prime condition. Glóin had asked her about it gruffly, and a few others had begun to listen in, when she felt another set of eyes on her.

It was Thorin, and she wasn't surprised. For a while she refused to acknowledge what she knew was an intensifying stare, but eventually she met his eyes quite by accident. Wasting no time, he nodded sharply away from the circle. Clearly it meant 'I want to talk to you in private right now.'

So Eisa excused and braced herself, and followed Thorin away from the others yet again, expecting a good deal of anger and an order that she leave immediately. And that was the best case scenario.

The dwarves and Bilbo pretended to be oblivious, and went on talking. But Bofur spoke his thoughts aloud once the pair was once again out of sight. "You know what that looks like?"

"Not ideal?" suggested Dori nervously.

"Trouble," Bofur agreed, nodding.

"The wizard's already put him in a foul mood," Dwalin grumbled. "The child had best watch what she says."

"But I don't think Thorin scares her," piped up Ori with a bit of awe.

"And that's the trouble," Bilbo muttered under his breath.

"Aye, and there's where the problem comes in," Balin sighed. "He only sees her as an inconvenience, and, well… Regardless, they communicate right over each other's heads," he perceived wisely. "When they both bother, that is. The only thing they have in common is the two princes."

"And I don't think he likes that they've befriended her," Bofur ventured. "Though I don't see why not."

Balin shrugged mysteriously. "Thorin is just looking out for the best interests of his nephews. We will see."

As it was, the old dwarf saw and heard far more than he let on. Oh, his brother and Thorin knew that he was all ears all the time. But to the rest of the population, he was a pensive good listener and an invaluable source of knowledge and advice in both good times and bad, with little thought given as to just how much the dwarf knew of the matters at hand.

At a glance, the only part of this little situation that made sense was Thorin's sense of protectiveness over his nephews. They were as good as father and sons, though the heir to the throne didn't exactly advertise just how dear the boys were to him. His consequential paranoia over the acceptance of the new traveler therefore made more sense when one considered all he had been through.

_What we've all been through_, thought Balin wearily. Thank Mahal almighty for the next generation, because they were going to have a whole lot to get a handle on once the torch was passed to them.

He was lifted from these slightly dismal considerations by a sudden meditation on the idea of generations and bloodlines: the lass truly and genuinely hadn't the faintest clue who she was. (It was obvious, of course—he would have been able to tell if she was fibbing.) Balin suspected that she had never made an active effort to find out the truth about her identity. From what she had mentioned of being presumably orphaned and raised in a city of Men, he guessed that her birth had not been a planned one. She would be lucky if her name had made it into the census records. With that alone to work with, the chances that she would ever learn anything about her parents were nearly nonexistent.

But her luck had lasted this long, the dwarf mused, drawing in a draught on his pipe. All the way back to accidentally causing Fíli and Kíli to rush to her aid like the valiant princes they were, odd coincidences seemed to adhere to her like one molten ore to another. These days, however—he almost chuckled—she would probably threaten them with bodily harm if they were too adamant about assisting her where she didn't need it. The lass was still so reluctant to accept help.

Although that too made sense with nothing much deeper than a second look. Years spent alone and self-reliant out in the world would cause solitary tendencies in anyone. Aulë's beard, most of the time when she could be heard muttering to herself, she was actually carrying on multilateral conversations. He knew that Kíli found it particularly amusing to see how many times he could interject his own nonsensical opinions into these discussions before Eisa realized that there was an intruder present. But of course she wouldn't ever really mind, since it was him.

How strange—silly, even—to think that the young woman was incapable of recognizing a simple attraction when she encountered one. For this, Balin had finally surmised, was no phase of extreme denial.

It had a bit to do with Eisa's level of bonding with the group, which was more intense than any companionship she had experienced before, Balin was sure. This was largely due to the roles of the young princes in befriending her.

In addition, she was unnaturally focused on her pursuit of worldly knowledge for one so young. She had probably quite frankly had no time for looking at dwarven boys, even when she did get the rare chance to do so.

And while she was not exactly socially inept—on the contrary, she was alarmingly diplomatic most of the time—it was clear that the parts of her that should have been focusing on courting at her age had hardly even been developed into existence.

So all in all, it was really no wonder that she was unable to recognize (never mind accept) the feeling of butterflies in her stomach for young Kíli.

Balin watched the retreating backs of Eisa and Thorin and pressed his lips together, praying for them both. It certainly didn't make matters easier that she was the exact opposite of anyone Thorin should want for his nephew, or even anyone Kíli should want for himself.

At the image that appeared in his mind's eye of Youth and Rebellion skipping into the sunset hand in hand, Balin chuckled briefly before taking a very, very long inhale from his pipe.

In the meantime, Eisa had started an attempt at competent speech, only to be silenced by Thorin holding up his hand.

"Please, let me speak first." _Or I may never get this out_, he finished silently.

It was the 'please' that got her. She nodded for him to go on, although feeling that it wasn't quite right for her to be the one to give permission.

"I feel I must apologize for two things. First of all—" he sighed as if to focus— "I regret my incivility in insulting you unduly."

He paused, and Eisa filled in quickly with an "Apology accepted," more stunned than anything.

"And secondly, forgive me for not…" He stopped himself and, although it appeared he had rehearsed his words in his head, he seemed to reconsider them briefly. "For not listening. I did not stop to understand you, and had I been any other dwarf, your manner would have been appropriate," said the king with some difficulty, repeating his nephew's earlier words to him.

"But you are not," Eisa pointed out. It was all she could think to say.

"No, but all the same, status does not trump courtesy," Thorin said with sudden sagacity, taking Eisa aback.

"…Indeed." She blinked. "Well, apology accepted, then. But I must apologize as well," she declared, standing up straighter and clearing her throat a bit. "I should not have lost my temper so. It was unnecessary and not conducive to the situation, and I am sorry."

Thorin inclined his head, despite still looking like he was about to have a heart failure. "There is no need. We were both at fault in that respect. We may start over on even ground."

_Start over…on even ground?_ Eisa had to keep herself from grinning madly. "Thank you, I would be grateful for that."

"Good. However, I will say one thing, concerning my nephews."

Eisa's knees locked.

"As long as you are their friend—" there was definitely some significant emphasis there— "you must be a good and true one. Hurt them, and I assure you that you do not want to learn of the consequences. Understood?" His stance was not aggressive, but Eisa got the message loud and clear.

"Understood." She thought for a second, then said quietly, "I wouldn't dream of it."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **I would try to come up with something clever, but the Spanish AP Exam fried my brain.

**A/N: **No seriously, I'm having lethargy-inducing flashbacks to SATs. Anyhoo, I figured I owed you guys a chapter! Yikes. Things are getting mad around here, but I'll be done with high school (no, it hasn't sunk in) in three weeks, so it'll all be okay :) I apologize in advance for the awkward chapter breaks for the next couple updates...the chunks of time are waaaaay longer than what I've had in here so far, so the splitups were super funky to try and figure out.  
Also! **A bunch of stuff related to this story is now up on my deviantart.** You should go and see it because I have an obsession problem. Those two clauses do not exactly correspond. Oh man.  
100 followers, wooHOO! :D My current moral support consists of: **TokyoGirl7**, **KimKitty**, **IAreCharlina**, **nibbs8**, **Ginger-ninja-squid-fish**, **Doodler100**, **reighnstorm90**, **AngelsWisper**, **FasterThenMyBullet **(I think you're the 100th follower!? If so, then yay!), **bird89,** **AemiKili** (Right?! Heck, I didn't even see it coming xD There IS a reason for the sudden appearance of Thorin's almost nonexistent humility' it's just...to be revealed. Blargh but it feels so out of character~), **Hiding in the Shadow** (ISN'T IT JUST DEMORALIZING?! My poor baby T_T But don't worry, eventually he'll be rid of all these ridiculous misinterpretations (evil cackle). Ehehehe. It may backfire as well; we'll have to seeeee...! (rolls away into the night) Oh and thanks! Good), **Vaughn Tyler** (Thanks!), **Guest** (Yikes! :P Glad you dropped a line, thanks!),** i (Guest)** (Um I disagree; this review was literally the best thing. Hahaha, but actually, I was close to skipping through the hallways. I'm so glad this has made you so excited! I guess incoherency is a good sign...? Heh. Well thanks anyway, I'm super flattered! :D), **Glamdring42** (Why thank you! :), and of course **the lovely readers**.

**Chapter 13**

_In Which Several Small Battles Are Fought (And a Large One, More or Less)_

Bilbo appeared to be developing a tic. Eisa was quite fond of the Burglar by now, but she was ready to tie him up and gag him if only to stop his nervous habits and fretting.

"He's a wizard!" Bofur was now trying to placate him as he ladled out portions of stew for the Company. "He does as he chooses. Here, do us a favor. Take this to the lads." He nodded down the hill to where Fíli and Kíli were (presumably) still keeping watch over the ponies, perhaps just trying to get the hobbit to do something to keep him from going out of his own skin.

Eisa wondered if the brothers were in fact doing their job. It was doubtful, and she considered following Bilbo with her own bowl of stew, but thought better of it. Even if she was back in Thorin's relatively good graces, she didn't want to overstep and put herself on the line again. Besides, the two didn't get much time alone, and they probably appreciated it when they could.

It was only when they came sprinting back into camp just minutes later that she realized that Bilbo still hadn't returned. "Thorin!" Fíli shouted, and everyone whirled. Someone's stew spilled, and the bowl tumbled to the ground.

"What is it? What's happened?" Thorin was suddenly right in front of the two, and everyone scrambled to stand up and get their wits about them.

"Trolls, three of them, further down the hill. They're taking the ponies," Kíli explained quickly, barely even out of breath.

"And where is the Halfling?" asked Thorin as though he dreaded the answer.

"Creating a diversion. Hopefully," said Kíli.

"But we have to hurry; he hasn't got a clue," Fíli urged his uncle.

"Right. Everyone to arms, on the double!" ordered Thorin. "You did the right thing," he told his nephews in a hushed voice before reaching to retrieve his sword.

Eisa followed along with everyone else, grabbing her axe—perhaps it was just very good luck that she'd thought to sharpen it—and following the Company into the forest with hurried steps. They made their way down the hill, into the undergrowth where the ponies had been left to graze, and Fíli and Kíli led them around to the right through some impossibly thick brush. Branches, vines, and all manner of things that snagged tugged at Eisa's clothes and long hair, and she tried to concentrate on staying relatively quiet. She had never encountered trolls before (and from what she'd heard, she didn't want to) but she was glad she was in a group if she had to do so.

Her comparatively slim figure made her one of the fastest in the group, and when they halted abruptly and took cover, she dived down behind a log next to Kíli. "I leave you two alone for a few hours and this is what happens?" she murmured, jesting despite the situation.

He snorted and shook his head resignedly, but was interrupted by Fíli and his sharp eyes. "Curse it, they've caught him," he swore, and made to stand up.

"Wait." Thorin pressed down on the blonde's shoulder. "Wait to see what the Halfling does."

Kíli shifted beside her, and Eisa craned her neck to see through a gap in the bushes and winced when she saw Bilbo dangling upside down between the thumb and forefinger of a mountain troll. These were of average size, so it could be worse, but she had never actually seen one before, so it took her a moment to take in their height.

"Are there any more o' you little fellas 'iding where you shouldn't?" leered the troll in a horrendously boorish accent. It was at least something that they could speak competently, Eisa supposed; there were plenty of cave trolls that were little more than savage animals.

"No!" Bilbo fibbed weakly, struggling.

"'E's lying!" jeered a second troll.

"No I'm not!" cried Bilbo in desperation.

"Hold 'is toes over the fire! Make 'im squeal—!"

But suddenly it was the troll that gave an unseemly squeal, when the ring and thunk of steel hitting flesh resounded throughout the clearing along with a shout.

Eisa straightened up rapidly and looked around for Kíli, for that had been his voice, but he was suddenly gone and had attacked one of the trolls from behind!

"Drop him!" he bellowed. Eisa and the rest of the Company stared at his back, and Thorin might have cursed.

"You wot?" sneered the troll that had Bilbo.

Kíli spun his sword expertly and gripped it in both hands, and Eisa could hear the mad grin in his voice when he threatened, "I said…drop him."

Thorin signaled forward swiftly and held up his hand, telling everyone to wait at the ready, and Eisa rose to a standing crouch.

The troll didn't appear to be taking kindly to Kíli, and with a roar he took the dwarf's words literally and hurled the hobbit at him, bowling them both over just as Thorin let out a cry of his own and charged, the others close behind.

Eisa hurdled the log and then Bilbo's flailing legs with ease, and all of a sudden they were all in the midst of the trolls' camp and there was a huge ugly trunk of a limb in front of her. She swung her axe with all her strength as if she were felling a tree, but it didn't do nearly the damage she expected and she reeled away, nearly falling over only to be pushed back up by one of the dwarves.

Surprised, she looked about her for a brief second but then refocused her energy, deciding to concentrate on using her size to her advantage. She came very close to completely hacking off a gigantic toe that was in her way (temporarily ignoring just how revolting that was) and earned a monstrous shriek for her efforts, then ducked between a pair of legs and rolled, lashing out with her axe on the way. As the troll stumbled from another attack—the dwarves were everywhere at once, almost moving like independent parts of a single entity—it stepped on her axe, wrenching in from her grasp and causing her to swear. As soon as she stood, she was confronted with a horrid face and a reaching hand, and she had just realized that she couldn't reach any of her daggers fast enough when someone hollered "Eisa! Catch!" and a sword abruptly landed in her hands.

Without thinking, she sliced once, twice, across the horrible hand, nearly severing a finger and opening another gash in the tough skin. Then she leapt to the side, letting herself fall to the ground as she was taken aback yet again when a dwarf—it might have been Dori—jumped over her with sudden agility as if he had expected her to be in that precise spot at that precise time. She saw Dwalin avoid a swipe from a troll by leaping off the edge of the massive cauldron and tuck-and-rolling to a stop in a similar maneuver as Thorin fiercely launched himself off the older dwarf's back to attack the troll that had a hold on Ori. So maybe the key was to go with the flow, she reasoned.

Just then, she saw Fíli take a hit from behind and she shouted in anger, cutting at the backs of the troll's knees as Bifur joined her. She flung out a hand and yanked the blonde to his feet, shoving the sword that she now recognized as his back into his hand so that she now had room to draw the very long dagger from her belt and the short one from her forearm. Not far away, Thorin was fighting ferociously, and she covered his back for a moment, stabbing viciously into the bottom of a repulsive raised foot.

Dori's blow to somewhere the sun didn't shine (no pun intended, as these were in fact trolls) and Dwalin's subsequent knocking out of several teeth with his war hammer almost made her cheer in victory, but things went downhill from there. In a blur, one of the trolls suddenly charged the makeshift pen that the ponies were now escaping from, courtesy of Bilbo upon further inspection. Fíli and Kíli were flung to the side through the air by another troll, and Ori was knocked to the ground, nearly taking Eisa with him as the dwarves prepared to regroup around Thorin.

"Bilbo!" Kíli cried suddenly, followed by a "No!" from Thorin, who had to hold his nephew back.

The rest of the Company realized what was going on when they looked to what the trolls were holding between them. It was the hobbit, and from where they were all standing, it looked very easy to pull him apart. "Lay down yer arms," ordered one of the trolls triumphantly, "or we'll rip 'is off!"

The poor Halfling looked terrified, as though for a moment he really believed that the dwarves would gladly run the risk of letting him die. Eisa certainly hoped that that wasn't the case, and with that thought, she looked at Thorin hopefully.

When he paused, her stomach dropped, but a second later he thrust his sword into the ground defiantly. Kíli followed suit, looking unbearably frustrated, as did the rest of the Company. Eisa dropped her daggers, seething at their helplessness, and Ori was the last to fling his slingshot to the ground with childish dismay.

"Disarm—all o' ye!" the troll went on. "Everything off. I don't want to be findin' no pointy things in my dinner."

Left with no choice, the fuming dwarves began to strip themselves of every protection they had. Eisa shed her long coat, then unbuckled her belt and had to unstrap the light sheath from her right forearm to free her second hooded coat. But she was damned if she would remove the hidden shorter knives from her boots.

Now, it was entirely inappropriate in multiple ways, but Kíli found his eyes wandering for a few brief moments. They were at the mercy of three hungry trolls with no visible way out and a hostage situation, and yet he couldn't stop looking at the way the surprisingly slender dwarf maid clenched her now ungloved fists in aggravation and then brushed off her fitted breeches out of habit. Her normally neat hair and braids now tumbled down her back in considerable disarray, and he noticed suddenly just how small her waist and ribcage were. He knew that the others were purposely averting their eyes, as it was hardly proper to have everyone mostly disrobing with the young woman here, but he couldn't help but steal glances and absently wonder what the pale green color of her shirt brought out in her strange silt-colored eyes.

His thoughts were interrupted as the girl was suddenly seized up, giving a small shriek, along with Bofur, Bifur, Dwalin, Nori, Dori, and Ori. "We'll start with these!" announced a troll gleefully as Kíli forcefully bit back a shout of protest, and before any of them knew it, they were all seven of them hog-tied and fastened around an alarmingly large spit. Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Óin, Glóin, Balin, Bombur, and Bilbo were all stuffed into sacks tied at the tops with only their heads sticking out. They looked not unlike enormous sausages, which was probably not a good comparison to make in the interest of not being eaten. Eisa might have laughed if it had not been for just that - and also if she had actually been able to see them, for the spit kept rotating at inopportune times. As it was, several chunks of her hair were dangling down dangerously close to a few of the higher-reaching flames, and her normally strong stomach was not appreciating the jolts of the turning spit.

She could, however, hear the indignant shouts from the dwarves on the ground, and while Kíli was being quite vocal, Fíli's voice sounded strangely muffled. When the spit rotated so that she could see the rest of her companions, she realized that the blonde dwarf had been flung on his face and was having about as much luck in righting himself as an overturned turtle.

Her perverse urge to laugh (which might have had something to do with slight hysteria) was quickly stifled by one of the trolls complaining, "Don't bother cooking 'em! Let's just sit on 'em an' squash 'em into jelly!"

"That's not how that works," Eisa groaned to herself amidst the cries of those around her. This was humiliating. Captured and being slow-roasted by a few of quite possibly the dumbest sentient beings to roam the land.

"They should be sautéed and grilled, with a sprinkle of sage," another troll fantasized.

"Ooh. That does sound quite nice," agreed the first, warming up to the idea of fine dining.

_Yes, perfectly charming_, thought Eisa as the trolls went on. It really did seem like a pleasant way to prepare a meal if the main component had not been, oh, say, _dwarf_. But quite frankly (although it just might be enough to ruin the flavor of them all) she wouldn't be of much use to anyone vomiting her guts out, which was what she felt like doing. And she didn't care whose or what limb was digging into her ribs, but all she knew was that it was not helping the condition of her innards, and she wriggled about trying to dislodge it somehow.

Finally something shifted, something slipped, and she abruptly dropped an alarming few inches closer to the fire, which was uncomfortably hot and attempting to sear her hair yet again. She nearly yelled, but then caught on. Something had loosened somewhere, and she didn't care where, because that extra little bit of slack was all she would need to twist around and reach into one of her boots for a knife.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **Yet again, nothing decent's coming out. (I think my brain's still recovering from the Latin AP this time.) Don't own the obvious.

**A/N: **My belief in the power of psychic people has been somewhat elevated. Strange opening line, yes, but it's really all rather intriguing. Long story short, a couple friends and I went to a local psychic lady whose store everyone always drives by but never really goes into, and let me tell you, it was a bit of an experience. I purposely didn't say much about myself or give details, and it was still actually kind of alarming what weird details and emotions she picked up on about me. But hey, apparently I'm going to go places in life both figuratively and locationally, so I'm kind of willing to just roll with this all right now. :P

People who I would give some of the cookies I just baked to if I could: **AemiKili **(I mean you know I'm a sucker for those xD), **Hiding in the Shadow** (I love Eisa to death as well. And oh Kili :D he just requires so much love. Thaaanks :), **Elva35**, **Ryanarima**, **RunningFromShadows**, **TheMcgabster**, **Cyphercat**, **MoonCrown** (Aww, I'm happy you did too! Thanks!), **Guest** (Aw well thank you my dear :) I am indeed flattered. And yes, I assumed it was a compliment xD Soon is never soon enough when it comes to fanfics, ain't it? Haha), **L. C. Hart**, **i am a Fire-jay**/**Cathlynn** (Oh believe me, I know the feels! HAH wait you said that? That's phenomenal. Awww yes dear I understand ALL those feels :/ But I bet it was an amazing experience :) Glad to see you back and that you're home safe!), **cwilkinson5**, **PhyreCrystal**, **Mwhit95**, **samilions**, **MomoftheShire**, **Jade Surro** (Hooray, welcome! :D Aha. You know, I've been turning over ideas about that in my head and your review totally helped me consolidate my thoughts/views. I agree with keeping it real; more about this in the note afterwards, in fact...), **Faith NightGrace**, **Natski1970**, and **all you readers**!

All right, **I****mportant Plot Note Alert**. Concerning romance plotlines as my thoughts have finally come to a head. So for a while there, I was planning on having them accept their feelings, etc. during the long stay at Rivendell. I am now thinking that, despite my timeline extensions to make the journey there closer to a month and the time there close to two weeks, in light of the dynamics of the story, this would be unwise. As we've established, Eisa is a bit emotionally constipated, and that's because of the effects of the way she was brought up and how she's been living. In addition, we have a menacing Uncle/King Thorin and the whole little issue of royalty vs nameless commoner. All things considered, and keeping in mind that romantic feelings do not develop logically - strange feelings come and go, dynamics wax and wane extremely inconveniently, situations change, you know the drill - I'm going to irritate you all and hold off on the hardcore they're-together-now stuff for a while. I'm just warning you. Don't get me wrong, though; I am going to do everything in my authorly power to make it one heck of a ride from here to there, for your benefit as well as my own and that of the story. And be prepared for me to throw out some teasers/tidbits/red herrings/fantorture/general evilness, because that's kind of my own personal compensation price for restraining myself on the romance front x'D Anyhow, harass me if you want, but that's how it's gonna go.

That was long! Sorry. But I felt that it was important and that you'd want me to say something. SO! Read on and enjoy the badassery :)

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

_In Which Trickery, Badassery, and Camaraderie Abound_

Just as she was debating the best way to avoid being seen attempting this, Bilbo's voice rang through the air to inform the trolls that they were making some sort of terrible mistake.

"You can't reason with them; they're half-wits!" despaired Dori from somewhere on the spit.

"Half-wits? What does that make us?" Bofur stated Eisa's feelings aloud from a bit closer.

"I meant with the, uh—the uh, with the seasoning," Bilbo clarified as if explaining the finer points of cooking to a family member. Eisa couldn't see him but wondered if he'd hit his head at some point.

"Wot about the seasoning?" one of the trolls that had been turning the spit asked suspiciously, advancing on Bilbo. Eisa began to thank Bilbo silently, seeing that none of the trolls were paying much attention to the spit any longer, and before she could regret it, she reached down her right leg and strained to catch the hilt at the inside of her boot. In a second or two she was successful, and quickly shoved the weapon behind her in hiding as she heard Bilbo comment on how the dwarves smelled.

"Traitor!" yelled one of said dwarves, the smell of whom Bilbo was probably perfectly correct about. Nonetheless, Eisa wondered where the hobbit was going with this little stunt. She now saw that he was standing up inside his bag, the center of attention. In fact, the "flurglaburburobbit" seemed to have effectively captured his audience with the supposed secret to cooking dwarf. Eisa freed her second dagger and contemplated what to do next. Clearly if she cut the ropes then they'd all just fall into the fire, which wouldn't be much use at all. It was too bad they were all bound by one continuous rope of twine, or else… No, but of course! She began to wriggle in earnest while trying to maintain the rope's tautness so that no one else slipped, willing her already thin frame to shrink even more and free up more maneuvering room. Her hands were pressed behind the small of her back now, gripping her daggers.

"To…skin them first!" announced Bilbo, and Eisa really had to wonder what made him come up with that as a solution. She would have slapped herself on the forehead had she had a free hand, especially when one of the trolls took his advice for truth and requested a filleting knife.

"I won't forget that!" Dwalin bellowed from the spit and shook a tattooed fist at the hobbit, and as they turned so that Eisa could see Bilbo and the other dwarves again, she saw honest fear in a few of their eyes. It was one thing to be threatened by dumb trolls, but thanks to Bilbo's supplying the creatures with ideas, they were in much more immediate danger now.

They began to turn again in earnest, and the troll turning them dismissed the whole bothersome notion of dwarf-skinning as a load of rubbish. The smaller troll that Kíli had attacked first—Eisa felt the swelling of something like pride at the recollection—agreed and suddenly snatched up Bombur from the pile by Bilbo.

"Nothing wrong with a bit o' raw dwarf!" the troll exclaimed gleefully. The fat dwarf's looped and braided beard dangled down grotesquely, and Eisa wasn't sure if she was glad or not that she was turned out of view of them again. Bombur babbled frantically in fear.

"N-no, not that one, h-h-he's infected!" Bilbo stumbled along his words. _Finally, a reasonable solution_, Eisa thought gratefully, and tried to calculate how fast she could release the tension and slip under one rope with her head and shoulders and over another with her legs when she rotated to the uppermost point of the spit, to prevent her from falling. She was almost certain she could do it; it was just a matter of timing.

"Yeah, he—he's got worms! In his…tubes!" scrambled Bilbo, and finally achieved the desired effect when the troll made a noise of disgust and flung Bombur away in revulsion. Unfortunately, Eisa saw that he rocketed straight into Kíli, who groaned and wheezed at the impact. "I-In fact, they all have them. They're infested with parasites, it's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't," the hobbit went on grimly, apparently deciding to stick with what was working.

_Brilliant!_ Eisa thought triumphantly, hoping that the trolls either didn't know or didn't think of trying to get rid of the illness via boiling water. That would be uncomfortable, to say the least.

However, in the dwarf pile… "Did he say parasites?" Óin was asking incredulously, and Kíli nodded at him fervently.

"Yeah, we don't have parasites!" the brunette burst out, reacting for all the world like an insulted dwarfling. "_You_ have parasites!"

Eisa groaned out loud. _No, you daft dwarf, he's trying to keep you from being _eaten_!_ she despaired mentally. Maybe she would have to escape and create some diversion on her own after all. Although she still wasn't quite sure exactly how that part was going to work.

The dwarves suddenly went silent, and Eisa wondered with a roll of her eyes what had happened now (she couldn't see at the moment).

Óin broke the silence again, saying hesitantly, "I've got parasites as big as my arm!"

Eisa sighed in relief that they had caught on as Kíli hollered, "Mine are the biggest parasites, I've got huge parasites!" She very nearly burst out laughing as she thought that he _would_ be the one to assert his superiority in the size of his…parasites. That made her choke on her own spit, and she coughed violently a few times, inappropriately turning rather red. A few of the other dwarves were busily chattering away about their being riddled with imaginary parasites.

"Wot would you have us do, then? Let 'em all go?" the troll at the spit demanded of Bilbo, leaving his post.

"Well…" Bilbo floundered, giving up too soon.

"You think I don't know wot you're up to? This little ferret is taking us for fools!" The troll growled and returned to the spit, turning it with more enthusiasm.

"Ferret?" repeated Bilbo, clearly affronted, which was just about as completely beside the point as one could get.

"Fools?" parroted another troll.

"The dawn will take you all!" The powerful voice that boomed from the rocks overlooking the clearing was almost unrecognizable at first, but then the Company realized that it was the voice of a wizard. The trolls all turned in confusion, and Eisa took her chance now that backup had arrived.

"Who's that?" one troll asked with mild interest. Eisa writhed and kicked her legs out from under one rope, conveniently just coming to the top of the rotation.

"No idea," dismissed another. Eisa slipped the second rope over her chest and shoulders and ducked her head out of the restraints.

"Can we eat him, too?" wondered the third, and Eisa jumped up into a precarious half-crouching position atop the spit.

Wordlessly, Gandalf raised his staff and drove it into the surface of the rock on which he stood, causing the whole thing to split perfectly down the center. Where before had filtered in the beginnings of the hints of dawn, broad daylight streamed into the clearing as the sun rose, and Eisa took a flying leap daggers-first at the back of the last troll. She was taken by surprise when her blades left no marks on the rapidly thickening skin at the base of its skull—no, wait. It wasn't thickening; it was turning to stone in the sunlight, just as the legends said.

The dwarf maid struggled to keep her balance upon the troll's shoulders, finding herself a considerable distance from the ground and reeling as it thrashed in horror at the petrifying daylight. It took only a few seconds, and in an instant she was perched atop the back of a troll-shaped lump of stone. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and turned to Gandalf in delight, who was predictably smiling knowingly from the remains of the boulder as he leaned on his humble staff. The dwarves, after a stunned silence, began to cheer, Bofur's delighted cackle rising up.

"Get your foot outta my back!" Dwalin complained to someone from the spit, though not unkindly.

Eisa laughed out loud and slid down the troll's arm, pointedly avoiding contact with its backside, and landed to trot over to Bilbo. "Well done, my good hobbit," she complimented him, grinning and clapping him on the back in a friendly gesture. "Shall we leave them to suffer for a bit?" she whispered conspiratorially, indicating the bagged dwarves. As she did so, she swore she saw the ghost of a smile leave Thorin's face and thought neither for the first time nor the last that he'd look a lot better if he expressed positive emotions more often.

Bilbo looked at her in surprise before realizing that she'd actually been joking around with him, and he returned the grin shyly. "No, I think the consequences outweigh the instant gratification in this case."

"Agreed." Eisa knelt in front of Fíli, who was closest, as Bilbo went to help Balin. She rolled the blonde dwarf over, and he promptly began spitting leaves.

"Thank you," he moaned. "You've no idea how frustrating that was."

Getting to work on untying the knots at his neck, she hummed in agreement. "I just thought I was going to be sick. Spinning round like that."

"But—you got free!" exclaimed Kíli from behind his brother, wriggling in disbelief.

"Yes, well, fat lot of good it did in the end," she chuckled, freeing Fíli and letting him work his way out of the sack as she started on Kíli. His had two complexes of knots, and how the trolls had managed such handiwork, she did not know.

"Still," protested the brunette as his now free brother went on to help their uncle. "How did you do it?"

"Oh, just moved around a bit. Benefits of being skinny. My daggers were still in my boots, and they were distracted, so…" She shrugged, picking at the first knot. It was bothersomely tight.

"And what did you plan to do against them singlehandedly?" he then inquired dryly.

"I don't know," she scoffed. "Gandalf seemed like adequate backup, but if he hadn't shown up, well…" She trailed off, her fingers pausing. It did sound rather dumb now, saying it out loud. "I don't know. Maybe I would have bought us some time along with Bilbo."

"Oh, yes. You and the hobbit against three trolls," Kíli chortled. "That's so much better."

"Watch it, dwarf, I can sit here all day." Eisa crossed her arms, the second knot still left secure.

"Can you now?" He smirked and glanced significantly at the way she was practically sitting on top of him.

Her cheeks started to turn pink as she stood purposefully, and she felt the now almost familiar jolt of what she had begun to privately call the Kíli Stomachache. "That's it, I'm leaving you here—"

"No, don't!" He squirmed pathetically. "Please?" He then proceeded to gaze up at her with suddenly huge eyes. Beautiful, dark, long-lashed, pleading, huge eyes.

"Fine, fine. I'm not cruel, you know," she informed him jokingly, kneeling back down to pry at the second knot.

Kíli fought the urge to disagree as he tried not to stare at just how wide her loose neckline was. She really wasn't skinny at all; in fact, she was rather well-formed, just not as hefty as an ordinary dwarf. He distracted himself by observing that he had been right, earlier; the pale green brought out the hazel tones in her not-quite-brown, not-quite-gray eyes.

"That was a bit impressive back there, actually," he said out loud before he could stop himself. "I…thought it was very brave."

"Oh," Eisa said in surprise, tugging the last loops out of the knot and sitting back on her heels. "Thank you."

As he "mm-hmm"-ed and worked his way free of the bag, she stood and felt her face flush again suddenly. Not knowing what else to do, she jogged over to the others and began to help flinging dirt onto the dying fire. The other dwarves were already free and were debating how best to get those remaining off the blasted spit, for even with Eisa's absence, not a one of them could wriggle completely free on his own.

No one but Gandalf was even tall enough to reach the fulcrums of the spit, let alone lever the whole thing off the supports, so they had to settle for putting the fire out and climbing up on top of it to free the dwarves one by one. Bofur, it seemed, was already dangling by only his upper body due to some shifting around, but another dwarf's legs over his shoulders trapped him. Dwalin wouldn't stop yelling, and Ori kept misinterpreting Dori and Nori's instructions, causing discomfort to everyone else but Bifur, who remained silent except for some generic grumbles.

"This had better be out," Glóin muttered, stepping into the fire circle. All in all, the whole operation was extremely delicate and extremely awkward, as they hesitated to just cut all the ropes but would almost have more problems with releasing one dwarf at a time. Eventually the stronger ones (including Eisa) got the remainder of the Company down and everyone began to search for their clothes and equipment. Thorin, of course, had already reassembled his majestic self and was engaged in conversation with Gandalf, who had taken to tapping on the now statuesque trolls with his staff in ill-concealed glee.

Eisa walked by Bofur and Bombur helping Bifur to get his trousers on over his underclothes—really they were fighting several forces that were decidedly against the matter, including Bifur's belly—and located one of her throwing knives on the way. She was about to move to the general area where everyone's clothes had been shed (Great Aulë, this was sounding worse by the minute) when she spotted a yellow-fletched arrow on the ground and smiled. It must have escaped from his quiver.

Finding her long coat and belt within a minute, she set them off to the side and was about to start looking for her hooded jacket when Kíli's voice came from behind her.

"I believe this is yours." He smiled broadly and held out her longest dagger—almost a short sword, really. It was the one she wore on her belt.

She pulled the arrow from behind her back. "Trade?"

"Yes, please." Their hands overlapped for a second and Eisa experienced a strange feeling in her fingers that was some combination of a flinch and a squeeze. She frowned internally and attributed it to post-battle nerves, and when she turned from Kíli with a grateful smile she looked down at her hands for a second, flexing her fingers experimentally. Nothing out of the ordinary. How strange.

Just as she found her coat, like many of the others, she found her axe being thrust into her arms. "Here you go, lass," said Dwalin gruffly, and she blinked for a moment before remembering to thank him.

"Fíli! Kíli!" barked Thorin from across the clearing, and Eisa nearly flinched for them as she remembered the cause of all this trouble. "Come here."

She didn't even notice Bofur until he spoke from beside her, the flaps on his hat waggling. "Don't stare now, Miss. They'll be alright."

"Oh—I mean, of course they will." Eisa straightened her spine.

"Mm. You know, I've never seen them warm up to someone like they did to you," said the dwarf out of nowhere. He wasn't whispering, but it was clear that he meant to speak to only her.

"Really?" Eisa finally got out. "That's…interesting. I mean—" her words took a severe stumble— "they're good lads."

"Right indeed they are." Bofur nodded sagely. "Good friends, too. They like you very much. We all do, really, despite the way Thorin might act." His eyes twinkled kindly.

_Friends?_ "You do?" she blurted out. "Why?"

"Simple, really," chuckled Bofur, amused by her obvious disorientation. "You're a kind lass, helpful, intelligent, clearly not afraid of a fight…" He shrugged.

"But you hardly know me," she pointed out blankly.

"That's true enough, but it isn't so hard to make friends, now is it?" Bofur said matter-of-factly. "Besides, on a journey like this it's good that you're self-sufficient, and a right fierce fighter too, if not entirely proper—"

"I beg your pardon, I am entirely proper!" Eisa objected in mock haughtiness, appearing to recover a bit despite the repeated mention of friendship.

"Aye," Bofur amended, grinning somewhat shrewdly, and began to walk away, still murmuring: "and there are some who I'm sure wish you weren't so."

Now, assuming she had even heard that right, she couldn't work out what the insinuation was, assuming there was one, and that's not to say she thought there should be, but altogether she was really just left in the dark as to why she kept having to try to fight off impending blushes today.

"Dwalin, Bofur, Glóin, Nori! There's a troll-hoard nearby. Come, we are investigating," summoned Thorin with Gandalf at his side. Apparently he was done with his nephews, who were slinking surreptitiously away from him. "Everyone else, back to the camp to gather the supplies and the ponies. Meet back down here."

Eisa sighed and shouldered her axe, then spotted that her favorite brothers—_friends?_—were slouching along side by side. She shoved the axe into her belt alongside her short-sword and trotted up between them, hooking an arm around an elbow each. "Come now, it can't have been all that bad," she smiled, expecting them to bounce back within the minute.

"It's always that bad," Fíli disagreed.

"Only because it's him," muttered Kíli, dejected.

Eisa pondered over that for a moment. "Because he's your uncle? Or because he's the king?" were the two options she came to.

"Both, really," shrugged Fíli. "But mostly since…well, he did a lot of the work in raising us."

"We just want to make him proud," admitted Kíli, even quieter, looking and sounding unusually vulnerable.

Eisa looked over her shoulder at the king's retreating figure, and squeezed both brothers' arms. "I think you already do," she told them honestly, smiling gently at them both.

Her…friends?


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **Aragorn says I don't own this stuff. Royal decree, yikes.

**A/N: **I'm currently watching The Fellowship of the Ring and it's simply glorious. And to celebrate my having turned in my last high school English (or anything else, for that matter) paper EVER yesterday, here's a chapter! :D Regrettably, it's a bit shorter, but I love it. I squeed. I hope you squee.

A big ol' dose of LotR-inspired happiness for: **Pledged To Artemis**, **Hiding in the Shadow** (Oh, if you think that was squishy, just wait :3 I adore Bofur, I want to adopt him as my uncle or something. He's just lovely and quite sage although he likes to pretend he isn't very bright and that'll come back to haunt pretty much everyone at one point or another xD), **AemiKili** (Seriously, this gives me so many huggy urges that it should be illegal. Thanks :), **the Random Oliphaunt** (Okay, that totally inspired me to do an Eisa-discovers-modern-technology sketchdump x'D), , **Guest** (Eeee, I do loves me some fluff ^^ Thanks!), **laurajanelikes**, **hikaru909**, **MissKailee**, **ChewyRAWR**, **ThisIsYourWaffleSpeaking**,** i am a Fire-jay** (Hehehehe, yay :3), **ZakiChiUmi**, **L. V. Owl**, **Abyss Prime** (Isn't it though? ^^), especially **those of you who favorited**, and **you many readers**! Enjoy!

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**Chapter Fifteen**

_In Which All Kinds of Fluff Occur_

There was no need to send a scout to lead the remainder of the Company plus the reclaimed ponies to the trolls' cave. The stench spoke for itself. In fact, by the time they neared the entrance, Bilbo was looking as if he might faint.

"That settles it. You could not pay me to go down there," he asserted.

"Smells worse than orcs," Eisa gagged. She was no delicate flower, but the smell of dead things and things that should have been dead and things that were left far too long dead was a bit much. "Although perhaps also more difficult to kill. Well, maybe not," she thought out loud, thinking of a troll's tough skin but stupid nature versus an orc's smaller size but tendency to kill and/or maim viciously on sight.

"Orcs are…also difficult to kill?" Forget orcs; it appeared that it was difficult for Bilbo to speak.

"Well, they're ferocious, certainly," Eisa considered, having a bit of an unintentional Bofur moment as she failed to remember who she was speaking to and that she was speaking her thoughts with little to no filtering. "Kill you as soon as look at you. Bleed like crazy once you get a hit in, though. Only the blood's black. Nasty business, really; quite disgusting."

Bilbo, Fíli, and Kíli all looked close to simultaneous heart attacks, though for very different reasons.

"You've…fought an orc before." Kíli was practically beside himself.

"More than one! Of course I have, who do you think I am?" scoffed Eisa somewhat jokingly without thinking.

"I've no idea; that's the problem!" spluttered Kíli as his brother continued to gape at the dwarf maid with several additional ounces—perhaps pounds—of respect. Bilbo just drew his shoulders up to his ears and looked terrified at the whole prospect.

The brothers had both seen the way that the young woman had freed herself in three sharp, premeditated movements; kept her balance and coordination; and proceeded to launch herself at the back of the closest enemy. Leaping through the air as the dawn streamed into the clearing, she had cut an impressive gold-framed figure above them. She had even aimed for a vital spot at the base of the skull, although her blades never got the chance to pierce the skin. Those were not the actions of a common lass. Let alone those of a dwarf maiden, even one used to life on the road.

No; there was much more at work inside of her than that. The two dwarves only wondered if they would ever find out what it was.

"Eisa?" said Fíli suddenly. "You're bleeding, I think." He pointed at the underside of her forearm, exposed as she rubbed out a kink that had developed in her neck during her time as a rotisserie item.

"Hm? Ah, so I am. Must have been when I jumped on that troll," she concluded nonchalantly. The better part of the uppermost layers of her skin were scraped off, although not deeply, and the abrasion looked worse than it felt. In fact, she wasn't sure she'd noticed it at all until then.

"Can I see?" Kíli asked insistently, but cautiously. He remembered the last time that he had panicked slightly at the sight of what he had thought was her blood.

"Here, Bilbo, what's that over there? That type of mushroom?" Fíli spoke up immediately, rising and walking away deliberately with Bilbo in tow.

Eisa thought little of his sudden interest in the native fungi; she was too preoccupied with looking at the brunette in puzzlement but nodding and offering her left arm. "Go ahead. But I don't really think it's going to be a problem…" She trailed off as he took her hand more gently than she would have thought possible and turned it over.

He pushed her gathered sleeve up to her elbow, careful not to disturb the scrapes, and ran his fingers ever so lightly over them. His broad hands were calloused and tough from years spent with the bow and sword as well as in the forges, but his movements were precise and self-assured, and so unexpectedly tender. The touch sent goosebumps up Eisa's arm and to her back where they spread down her spine, despite the fair weather.

Kíli was bent over her arm, appearing to be deep in concentration. Which was saying something, because any at all was impressive coming from him. "Mm. Just try not to get too much dirt in it. The next time we find a clean water source, you should rinse it out."

"Okay," she agreed in a small voice that surprised them both. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to say that of course she already knew to do that and who did he think she was? Maybe it was because he was taking such care with her, as though she were made of butterfly wings.

Then before she realized what he was doing, he brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across the backs of her slender fingers. "There, that ought to help," he said cheekily but quietly, and smiled as he met her surprised eyes.

She was about to say something, and she wasn't sure what it was or what she felt needed to be said or what she even felt at the moment but just _something_, when she experienced that awful lurch in her gut again. Why was it back? She couldn't imagine what it was, and she hoped that it was only a bit of indigestion from being turned round and round on that spit, because otherwise she would have to consider Óin and Balin's words from a few days ago, and that was not something that she wished to do for too long.

But she had little time to be alarmed, for the others emerged from the cave with a bit of a ruckus, Thorin looking slightly disgruntled about carrying a cobweb-and-earth-covered but gorgeous sword. Eisa could see why; from here, the blade looked to be of elvish make. Yet that made even less sense, although she put it together when Gandalf followed along after the dwarves with a similarly forged sword and dagger.

Kíli released her hand as if burned, and scooted back a few surreptitious inches on the log. Eisa, likewise, felt her face threatening to heat up again—drat it all, what was _wrong_ with her sensibilities?!—which was absolutely ridiculous because they'd only been discussing the treatment of her minor injuries. She cleared her throat unnecessarily and began to busy herself with reassembling her clothing, pulling on her long fawn-colored coat over her hooded one, cinching her belt tight, and easing her gloves back on.

Meanwhile, Fíli had handed Bilbo over to a deep conversation with Gandalf in favor of slinging an arm oh so casually around his little brother's shoulders. "So," he began, raising both eyebrows mischievously. "What was that private little exchange about?"

"You were the one who made it private," Kíli retorted with the first thing to come to mind. "Why'd you go charging off with Master Baggins, anyhow?"

"I thought a minute or two alone might be…conducive. To…things," Fíli explained, only not really.

"To _what _things?" the brunette contested. "She's injured and I was helping!"

His older yet slightly shorter brother fixed him with a direct look of amused skepticism. "Brother. We both know that she knows how to take care of herself."

Kíli wasn't entirely sure how he should respond to that when a bellow suddenly came from their uncle. "Something's coming!"

"Stay together!" Gandalf commanded as everyone grabbed their weapons and supplies. "Hurry now! Arm yourselves!" Eisa made sure all her knives and daggers were secure and snatched up her axe.

Then they all began to run, leaving the ponies (which they assumed would be fine on their own, having been grazing not far away) and not even knowing what it was they all feared. But they could hear it, making a racket through the thicket around them, coming from an unknown direction. It sounded rather large and uncaring of how much noise or mess it made—never a good sign—but once the bushes began rustling and they pinpointed the threat's location and something vicious came bursting out of the undergrowth shrieking like mad just ahead of Bifur, Dwalin, and Kíli—well...

They were all expecting something a bit higher off the ground, and certainly not a train of bunnies with a sled and passenger attached. There were a good five seconds of stunned silence as everyone contemplated the merit of attacking straightaway. But then Gandalf sighed, "Radagast!" with relief, and Eisa understood immediately and lowered her axe with a heavy exhale.

A rather disturbed Fíli looked to be on the verge of correcting the wizard with something like "No, that's a bum that's gone bonkers and tried to turn himself into a topiary," but no one else said anything.

"Radagast the Brown," Gandalf elaborated as a means of introducing the other wizard. "What on earth are you doing here?" he asked in a lower voice, approaching Radagast.

Eisa watched with interest. The Brown Wizard was every bit as eccentric as she'd expected, and then some. He actually appeared to have a growth of lichen occupying part of the side of his face, and wore a huge hat not so unlike Bofur's. Not to mention the fleet of rodents drawing his sled, which in her book, put him at the top of the list. She wasn't quite sure what that list was, but there was surely a list somewhere that fit the whole image perfectly. When he produced a stick bug from inside his mouth, she nodded absently and began to form possible titles for that list. The Eccentric Nature List…no, sounded too tame. The Terrestrial Oddities List…the Natural Self-Enlightenment List…the Prospering Peculiarity List…

She'd just gotten into a whole mess of alliterations involving fungi that made progressively less and less sense no matter which way one looked at it, when the dwarves all began to slip away from the wizards' clearly private conversation. Catching on, she climbed up another hillock scattered with boulders and sat atop a half-buried rock, kicking her heels against the ground while a few of her companions murmured amongst themselves.

"Miss Eisa." Thorin was striding towards her with purpose and addressed her with an overly formal air.

She stood hastily and brushed her hands off on her breeches. "Yes?" she asked with some apprehension.

He'd obviously intended to tower over her, but the best he could do was glower. The unknown side of her family that had given her unusual height received a few mental grumbles from the dwarven king. "Do you wish to remain with this Company?" He set the question to her like it was a challenge.

They both knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if she was serious, if she was in it for the long run. Risking life and limb for the others; giving as much as she got and then some; following orders; respecting all and betraying none; keeping up her end of the bargain.

This Company was family, if not in blood then in heart, and nothing short of death would stop them in their quest and in their support of each other.

They were her people and yet not her people.

And this whole arrangement sounded entirely ludicrous considering her past. To team up, form bonds, work together—that in itself was a novelty to her, and it was the strangest thing, because while the prospect intrigued her, it threw her completely off guard at the same time. She still didn't understand it. There was a reason she had been so discombobulated and unobservant for a good while after first encountering the Company.

Not to mention that, quite frankly, it was terrifying. This was unlike any adventure she'd ever encountered before, with implications the likes of which Middle Earth rarely saw and stakes higher than anyone could ever imagine.

And to think that she was just a humble at-least-half-dwarf who had taken to wandering the world.

"I…yes. Yes I do," she responded firmly after stuttering slightly with the hidden weight of his demand.

"Very well," he said gravely, and then raised his voice, although it wasn't as if he needed to. "I call for a vote." His eyes never left her, probably watching for the reactions that she exhibited. "All in favor of Miss Eisa officially joining the Company on this quest under conditions similar but not identical or limited to those of our Burglar which are to be determined as the need arises?" he managed to say in one breath without sounding rushed or winded.

Eisa couldn't concentrate on contemplating what that meant for very long as Fíli's and Kíli's hands shot up, shameless since they'd already made their opinions quite clear. Bofur's joined them, and all three looked as though they were barely stemming their mirth. Bilbo and a rather self-conscious-looking Dwalin were next, along with Balin, who raised his hand solemnly despite what might have been an upward twitch at the corner of his mouth. Then Ori, Nori, and Bifur, and it was clear that there was a majority. Eisa distantly heard Óin say "Eh?!" and his brother mutter something at him, but she didn't even care who might not have voted for her; she was too busy biting her lip to stop herself from beaming unprofessionally at all who had.

Suddenly it was so important to her that they approve of her. That they accept her for who and what and when and where and why and how she simply was, let her into their circle of companionship if only for the duration of the quest.

The notion that she so fervently desired their esteem was intriguing.

"Well." Thorin cleared his throat. "I'm sure the wizard would approve as well. But regardless, it appears that that settles things. Welcome to the Company, Miss Eisa."

"I…_thank_ you," she managed in a rather low voice that made the emotion in it not as audible.

Oh, this was pathetic of her. Eisa drew her spine straight and squared her shoulders, and bowed to the future King Under the Mountain. "It will be an honor, Thorin Oakenshield son of Thráin."

Fíli and Kíli grinned behind their uncle's back and the latter might have winked at her, and the Company on the whole shuffled and murmured their approval as the moment of anticipation dissipated.

Needless to say, that didn't last long.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **I haven't tried to profit from this hooey yet and I sure ain't gonna start now.

**A/N: **This, my friends, is a cause for celebration. I had my last day of high school today. It's all very surreal, really. Glad it's over, though; I'll be honest. Now all I have to do is pass my physics final (placed out of all the others, thank the Valar) and not trip at graduation! Yay!  
Listening to Seven Nation Army (the badass Glitch Mob remix, naturally). Reminds me of the BoFA, which, by the way, I've been having some amazing plotbunnies about. :D *cackles*  
Virtual joyous hugs for: **Hiding in the Shadow** (Eek ^^ Isn't it exciting? But yes...here comes the oh-so-obvious buzzkill. Thanks!), **Belliwing** (Thank you love!), **Cyphercat** (Thanks!), **Guest** (Haha, thanks~ Hey now, who doesn't love a bit of fluff? xD There shall be more...oh there shall be more), **blackprincess2466**, **AemiKili** (Hahahahaha, that's great! Don't worry, I won't tell the elf. Glad I brought you some joy there :) although hyperventilation is bad... :P Thanks dear), **the Random Oliphaunt** (I mean I'll admit it, I was a bit proud of coming up with that line on the spot. :P Thanks - and by the way, not like I'm a stalker or anything but I'm kind of in love with your profile page xD), **amariadiabla**, **BreeBrutal**, **Artemis150**, **jazica**, **DJ CurryCakes**, **Tyrevan**, **greensaber92,** **Dizzie123321**, **Gwenhwyfach**, **Trinnie/Guest** (Glad to see you've joined in on the fun! Hope you like it :), and **all the readers**!  
Enjoy, and don't pass out! :D

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

_In Which the Dwarves Run For Their Lives and We All Get a Bit of a Surprise_

A wild animal's howl carried to them on the wind, eliciting a few sounds of surprise from the Company.

Bilbo, who had previously been smiling at the ground, snapped his head up so fast he nearly sprained something. "Was that a wolf?" he asked quickly as if he didn't even want to hear an affirmative. "Are there—are there wolves out there?"

"Wolves?" Bofur shook his head, but his voice was alarmingly full of fear as he gripped his pickaxe and stepped in front of the hobbit. "No, that is not a wolf."

Eisa grabbed her own axe and listened warily, and just like the rest of them, she heard the low growl too late, only turning to the sound when a twig snapped. She gave an involuntary shriek when she caught sight of the beast atop the rise behind the Company. There were few beings in Middle Earth that she had yet to see, but Wargs had been one of those few that she had long since decided she could do without.

It charged down the hill in a few rapid bounds, leaping over Bofur and a dumbstruck Bilbo to lunge at Dwalin, one of the biggest physical threats of the group. Eisa was pushed back by an unseen hand, and she stumbled as Thorin's blade bit into the Warg, its belly already pierced by Dwalin's axes.

In another second, another Warg came crashing down the hill at Thorin's back. Eisa whirled around and realized with panic that she couldn't get her footing fast enough to defend herself, but a whizzing sound split the air and the Warg plowed into the ground, slowed by a well-placed arrow from Kíli. Nevertheless, it bowled her over as she swung her axe at a vicious diagonal, and she was nearly smothered until someone dragged her from beneath the animal. Dwalin pulled an axe from its skull with a gross crunchy sucking sound and gave her a nod as she staggered upright.

There was a bit of a stunned silence as the Company drew close together, a wide-eyed Kíli pulling Eisa closer to him by her arm. "Good shot," she muttered, and he nodded mutely.

Thorin yanked his sword free of the first Warg's neck with a ring as the blade vibrated. "Warg-scouts!" he thundered. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind."

"_Orc_ pack?" repeated an incredulous Bilbo, apparently still in a state of shock.

"Whom did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" Gandalf demanded of Thorin, striding towards him.

"No one," the king replied, his voice dangerously low.

The wizard raised his voice, and Eisa couldn't tell whether it was out of anger or fear. "Whom did you tell?"

Thorin matched him. "No one, I swear!" He dropped his voice, seeing that the wizard realized that he spoke the truth. "What in Dúrin's name is going on?"

"You are being hunted," Gandalf declared grimly, turning this way and that.

"We have to get out of here," said Dwalin in a low voice, his axes resheathed on his back.

"We can't!" came a cry from up the hill. It was Ori, along with Bifur. "We have no ponies. They bolted," despaired the young dwarf.

Eisa cursed fluently inside her head, backing up into Kíli. Of course the poor animals had run off. Who knew how many predators were now roaming the land around them, never mind what could quite possibly be orc riders? Damn that alliance that had come out of Mount Gundabad.

"I'll draw them off!" spoke up the Brown Wizard, trying to look fierce. Clearly this was a lost cause in the eyes of the dwarves.

"These are Gundabad Wargs; they will outrun you!" countered Gandalf, appearing to actually consider his friend's offer seriously. Perhaps there was some value in it after all.

"_These_ are Rhosgobel rabbits!" Radagast retorted with a hint of mischief, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at his makeshift sleigh and trusty steeds. Eisa peered in that direction with apprehension. "I'd like to see them try."

"As you wish, old friend," Gandalf acquiesced, turning to Thorin. "We must make haste. I will lead us in the proper direction. Quickly now, all of you!"

Radagast scurried to his sled and urged his team of rabbits onward, the dwarves scattering as he blew past. They could hear the howls of more Wargs in the distance, which did absolutely nothing for Eisa's nerves at least, but it helped her a bit knowing that they had only one option and that it was to run.

In a moment, the howls intensified, and they could indeed hear the shouts of orcs in their foul tongue. Led by Gandalf, the Company took off from the edge of the forest as Radagast careened away in the opposite direction, and at a remarkable speed. They ran in a rough line, sticking together on instinct, and while it soon became clear who the faster runners were, even fat Bombur kept up nicely.

Thorin had outpaced them all, and as the Company rounded a crag of rocks, he suddenly skidded to a halt. As Eisa rounded the corner she saw why and slowed her steps, for the pack of Wargs was being led straight across in front of them.

"Move!" Gandalf shouted, and the dwarves did an about-face and reassembled as they changed direction. Their packs were cumbersome, their cloaks hot, but they hardly noticed. There were some things that one just couldn't afford to pay attention to while running from vicious creatures and relying on a dubious diversion.

They came to the end of another protective barrier, and Eisa heard Thorin shout, "Ori, no!" as the young dwarf went to leap out ahead of the rest. "Go back!" he ordered everyone.

Eisa then realized that this plan was not going to work. They had no set destination and zero chance of safety for any number of miles. Radagast was doing an admirable job, but it was only a matter of time until the orcs realized that his whole entourage was not, in fact, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Never mind that the best he could do was lead the enemy in circles, not knowing where the dwarves actually were and thus unable to guarantee that they would not be seen.

They broke from shelter in a single file line, ushered along by Gandalf. As Eisa passed Thorin and the wizard, always the last out (which she supposed was admirable, but this was no time to dwell on character), she heard Thorin ask warily where Gandalf was leading them.

Based on his lack of an answer, she really hoped that he had some idea of what he was doing.

A minute later, they nearly crossed paths with Radagast again, and took an abrupt turn to the left. They all crowded against a rock face as a lone Warg and orc rider thumped up the rise behind them, clearly suspicious.

This was not a good sign. Eisa looked around anxiously from her spot wedged in between Fíli and Ori, knowing everyone was present but unable to resist a head count all the same. This was her Company now.

She could hardly even see Bilbo, for he had been quite forcibly pressed up against the rock by Bofur and Dwalin, of all people, but he was there nonetheless and didn't look on the verge of collapsing, which was a plus. No one did, for that matter, so clearly the determination of dwarves had won out over physical fitness in a few cases. Eisa also found herself thankful for her own acquired hardiness; she hadn't run so hard for so long while fleeing danger in a good while. Although her knees were beginning to give in a little, now that they had stopped so suddenly.

The Warg and orc alike were emitting sniffing and snuffling noises from above that were a bit disgusting but more terrifying. A few members of the Company frantically wondered which way the wind was blowing as several pebbles skittered down the rock face to rest on hats and in crooks of shoulders.

Suddenly, Kíli took several measured steps out from the rock from Fíli's other side, and released an arrow at the enemy with practically no aiming time. The whole Company whirled to see the result, Thorin especially, and saw that Kíli had caught the Warg in the shoulder. He fired a second arrow in no time, shooting the sword out of the orc's hand, and the whole mess rolled down to land at the feet of the dwarves.

The orc got up immediately and charged, shrieking like something terrible, but Dwalin, Bifur, and Thorin made quick work of both him and his mount. It was messy and rather nasty, but what concerned Eisa was the racket the two creatures were making in their death throes. Surely they would be heard—

No sooner had she thought this than there was an unnatural silence over the plains. The baying of Wargs suddenly struck up again, and the look on Gandalf's face was enough to tell Eisa that they were really in for it now.

"Move. Run!" he bellowed, and Mahal's beard, did they run.

They now had a distinct disadvantage, and yet Gandalf still seemed bent on accomplishing something specific. _Any time now, wizard_, Eisa thought with a degree of franticness.

It didn't take long until the Company bolted up a small rise and Glóin yelled, "There they are!"

"This way! Quickly!"

_Or you could just use your superb wizardly powers!_ Eisa continued to narrate mentally, legs burning, lungs on fire, and half convinced that she just might drive herself mad before this was over.

That was when a few orcs atop their Wargs appeared on a hill straight ahead of them. Thorin stopped dead in dismay and spun on the spot.

"There's more coming!" Kíli yelled, mostly to his uncle.

Thorin appeared to make a snap decision. "Kíli! Shoot them!"

_There's no way_, Eisa thought. One archer against this horde as far as long-range weaponry went? It was never going to happen. Kíli was putting up a valiant fight, though, and she had to admire his marksmanship as she nervously adjusted her hold on her axe.

"We're surrounded!" Fíli confirmed to everyone, which didn't help much. "Where's Gandalf?" he hollered a moment later amidst the confusion as the Company drew together on the small rise, a cluster of boulders at their backs.

"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin spat, and Eisa couldn't help but feel that she agreed. The wizard was nowhere to be found.

Ori, in desperation, had pulled out his slingshot and struck one of the largest Wargs between the eyes. The shot was dead on, but the creature only shook its ugly head in irritation, and its rider, possibly the leader, sneered with sick delight at the young dwarf.

Ori backed up nearly into Eisa, looking truly frightened now. But she clamped a hand down on his shoulder and whispered fiercely, "It is going to be okay." She didn't know what made her do it, but she felt the need to, and she stepped up beside him with her battle axe at the ready.

But oh, Valar, she wasn't made for this. She could handle blood and guts, and using weapons when she had to, and attacking carnivorous mountain trolls, but she was not accustomed to being targeted by large groups of beings that were both ruthless and intelligent. At best she wasn't ready, but all the same she refused to turn into a quaking jelly right now, and she gritted her teeth together and tried to breathe evenly. They might have stopped running, but her adrenaline was pumping higher and higher, her blood pounding in her ears. And just when she thought her muscles might snap with anticipation—

"This way, you fools!"

The voice came from the rock itself, and when Eisa chanced a glance, she saw Gandalf's pointed hat disappearing down into a rift. _There's no way_… she thought halfheartedly, but Thorin immediately yelled, "Come on, move!" so there was little room for judgment. The king leapt onto the rock, obviously intending to deter any enemies from approaching, and he indeed looked quite fearsome as he wielded his newly acquired elvish blade. "Quickly, all of you!"

Bofur was the first to literally take a blind leap of faith, and Eisa could only assume that the gap in the rocks led to an underground space of some sort. Thorin cut down the first Warg that dared to approach the opening with a single vicious stroke as the dwarves continued to pile in. They were remarkably efficient when necessary. Eisa ushered Ori along, shooting glances over her shoulder as they went, and from there it was two more bounds and a step into nothing but an alarmingly steep slope of solid rock.

She shouted in surprise and rolled down into what was indeed a cave, scrambling to her feet as fast as she could. Fíli hadn't been far behind her, and she sighed in relief as she saw him at the top, but then she watched him hesitate and heard Thorin's bellow of "KÍLI! RUN!" and the bottom of her stomach dropped out.

_No, no, come on now, get your dwarven behinds down here,_ she thought fervently, nearly bouncing on her toes. She didn't know if it was any safer down here, but it was worth a try apparently, and besides, it now seemed like the wizard had a plan. _Come on, you stubborn archer, _move_ it!_

Sure enough, Fíli threw himself down the slope in a moment and his brother tumbled along behind him, an arrow still nocked on his bow.

Eisa found herself moving forward to intercept them, Fíli rising to his feet easily enough and skidding past her along with his uncle, but Kíli stumbled and she for some reason reached out to grab his forearms to steady him. It happened in the space of an instant, but his momentum carried him straight into her arms and he in turn grasped her elbows as he righted himself, and her hands somehow ended up catching both sides of his face and she pulled him down an inch or two and kissed him full on the mouth.

As soon as she pulled away and looked straight into his eyes, she realized what she'd just done and that he looked as surprised at that as she felt. She was sure that her cheeks were reddening like nobody's business, but no one could see much detail in the dimness of the cave, and besides, visibility was the last thing on her mind as a horn-call suddenly sounded from the plains above and she quickly slipped out of Kíli's hold. His facial expression was oddly unreadable at the moment, and giving herself no time to dwell on it, Eisa slunk towards the back of the group, refusing to lift her eyes from the ground again.

Ending up next to Bilbo, she gave him a nod, but did a double take when the look he was giving her clearly spelled out that he had seen that little exchange. She blushed even more deeply, clenched her teeth, and stare doggedly ahead, jumping back with the rest of the Company when a particularly grotesque orc's body rolled haphazardly down into the cave.

Thorin pulled the arrow from its neck and wasted no time in throwing it to the ground in disgust. "Elves," he spat. His gaze, as well as an observant Eisa's, snapped to Gandalf at once, who didn't even bother trying to look innocent.

_You sly old fox_, Eisa thought in vague amusement, pointedly ignoring the way her lip was tingling. _That just happened. That actually just happened. No; I made it happen. Valar above, what did I just do? It happened._

"I cannot see where the pathway leads!" called Dwalin. Indeed there was a pathway; a narrow passage carved into the stone at the back of the cave. It was rough and seemed more natural than crafted, but it seemed functional. "Do we follow it or no?"

Bofur quickly answered for everyone. "Follow it, of course!"

"I think that would be wise," Eisa heard Gandalf murmur as she passed him. She was fairly sure that none of the rest of the Company would be particularly interested in meeting a troop of elves, rescuers or no. Except perhaps Fíli and Kíli, she thought automatically, and then squirmed internally. Mahal, what had that—that—_gesture_—even been?!

She whined under her breath in confusion. Usually, she made it a point not to confuse herself, so this was completely out of her comfort zone. Setting to following the passageway, she edged her way to the front so as to get as far as immediately possible from…ahem.

The path was extremely narrow and wound through the solid rock with no perceptible pattern. It was a bit claustrophobic, really, but would have been worse were it not for the strip of sky visible through the gap to the surface several yards above their heads. (Eisa was just glad at the moment that she was thin; Bifur kept having to help shove Bombur through the tighter places.) Scaling the walls would be possible, of course, but there was no telling where they were by this point in terms of the world above.

They had gone for about five minutes when Eisa began to wonder how far along the passage led. They could be in here for hours really, until they found the end. _Hours and hours on end down here with—ugh._ She made a face as she walked and refused to look behind her. Nori was just in front of her with Ori at her back, but the princes had to be back there somewhere so she wouldn't let herself turn except to make a passing remark or warning to Ori. She wondered if Fíli had seen anything. Bilbo certainly had.

She winced. Fine opinion the hobbit probably had of her now. And they'd really been warming up to each other after a few weeks, too.

What had that even _been?_ She didn't know what had possessed her to—to—attack Kíli like that. It wasn't as if she ran around just kissing people all day! And, as she soon learned, reflecting on that moment in too much detail had her stomach jumping unpleasantly. _Oh, wonderful. My friendly little odd condition is back. Maybe I _am_ allergic to him_, she despaired irrationally.

It hadn't been a bad kiss, really, as kisses went, she considered as she skirted around a tight corner. Maybe if it hadn't been so…out of nowhere. And with everyone standing around right there. And with a pack of vicious orcs waiting not yards away, ready to—

Oh. Oh, that made her feel so much better.

She'd been so worried while the Company piled into the cavern, and Kíli was the last one in next to Thorin, and she must have just been so relieved that… This made so much more sense now. Of course. She'd been petrified for him, naturally, and had just panicked slightly out of the alleviation of her fears once she saw he was safe. Overreacting irrationally made perfect sense.

This could get awkward later, though. She'd have to apologize to him. Clearly he didn't think of her in "that" way and she'd probably scared the poor sap. Perhaps she'd better reassure Bilbo as well that nothing strange was going on between her and Kíli.

Yes. Much better.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **The FBI turned up the other day to question me on my intent to profit and distribute, but don't worry, I talked their ears off about the finer plot points and why this is a fan work 'til they left in peace.

**A/N: **Finally to Rivendell! :D And huzzah to my being officially done with high school. The physics final was a good bit of mad improvisation, but whatever. Also, I got my hair cut to my shoulders! My dad says I look more mature and that (in a very caring way) if I don't open my mouth I'll maintain that impression. xD  
Peanut butter buckeyes (I don't care if you don't like/are allergic to chocolate/pb because this is theoretical) that I just stuck in the fridge for: **Hiding in the Shadow** (Hehehe, somehow I anticipated that reaction x'D Don't you worry, there will be plenty of wanting-to-smack-people-around moments for you in the future! Yes, I know, I'm terrible. Thanks for the review as always love :), **AemiKili** (I thought your respiratory system might just go a little haywire with that one. You may pass out if we're not careful :P Aw, thanks!), **simrrahh**, **the Random Oliphaunt** (I do love me some plot twists! Yeah, they're both kind of facepalm-worthy and pitiable in their own ways...heh. Also, congrats Miss 100th Reviewer :), **Guest 1** (Thank you very much! I edited and re-edited and scrambled that bit about twelve times before I thought I got the right stuff across, so I'm glad you liked it!), **i am a Fire-jay** (I see we have a shipper in the house xD thanks), **Guest 2** (Ooh, thanks :D Hmm, depends how you define stupidity. Regardless, there'll be plenty along the way. Hehehe), **Oninja**, **MercenaryBunny**, **InsanityxPrevails**, **nikess96**, and **all the readers**!

**Also, vote on the poll on my profile! It concerns updates, and hopefully that's something that matters to you all :)**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

_In Which Nearly Everyone Is Either Racist or Mutinous_

A few minutes later, the passage abruptly widened and the Company was assaulted by an onslaught of light from above. A series of roughly hewn shallow steps descended slightly as the walls opened up to the air, and suddenly greenery was visible everywhere. Sounds echoed up as if out of a vast space over the clomping of the dwarves' boots on stone, but they were the sounds of nature, not of danger. Eisa could hear actual birds chirping and water running, and was suddenly overcome with a feeling of serenity as she was able to take in the view over Nori's head.

The dwarves ahead slowed at the sight of the lush valley that now lay at their feet, though it was unclear whether it was out of awe or trepidation. Buildings crafted as finely as works of art rose out of the flora, all constructed of the same white stone with streams flowing unchecked throughout the city. For it was indeed a city, though small, and beyond compare in Middle Earth.

"The valley of Imladris." Gandalf's knowledgeable voice explained as he too emerged from the passageway. "In the common tongue, it's known by another name."

"Rivendell," Eisa heard Bilbo murmur. The hobbit was completely wonderstruck, looking as if he had just stumbled upon a place of his childhood fantasies that he had not believed to truly be real. And that was a fair comparison. As he had learned, the world did not exist in his books and maps, and if reluctantly, he just might be coming to enjoy the hands-on method of worldly exploration (although minus the danger; that was definitely a deal-breaker).

Thorin, on the other hand, looked less than enamored. Eisa wondered if he might attempt to throttle the wizard right then and there.

"Here lies the Last Homely House east of the sea," Gandalf informed the Company somewhat smugly.

They now were all aware what this place was and what it meant, and the realization was met with varying levels of enthusiasm. Eisa looked around to gauge the reactions of the Company and saw a rather displeased Thorin advancing on their wizard. This could get uncomfortable.

Some of the older dwarves—Balin and Dwalin especially—were looking particularly mutinous. A few of the younger and more indifferent ones—she blushed again, damn it all, when she nearly locked eyes with Kíli—merely looked vaguely interested, but with the ugly undertones of prejudice. There was apprehension all around as they muttered amongst themselves, and she wondered briefly how many of the dwarves, if any, had actually interacted with an elf. She'd met her fair share, that was for sure, but she thought it best not to bring up any of those adventures of hers just yet.

Gandalf was effectively shooting down Thorin's hushed blustering in the meantime. "If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact. And respect. And no small degree of charm," he instructed. "Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

Eisa overheard the last bit and choked on the air in an effort not to burst out laughing. Humbling moments did not come often for Thorin Oakenshield.

At an order from Gandalf, the Company made their way down into the valley. Eisa almost tripped multiple times, as she was so busy trying to absorb everything around her that she paid little attention to the grassy path (although that too was rather nice, even through the thick soles of her boots).

"Told you your feet were too small," Fíli joked, elbowing her as he came out of nowhere.

"I have nearly perfect balance," she retorted, though with little of her usual mock haughtiness. "I'm simply having trouble multitasking considering the scenery." She knew Kíli was following along just behind them, silent so far, but she pretended that her shoulders and the back of her head weren't burning where she imagined his eyes were landing on her.

"It's…different," Fíli said blandly.

"It's _gorgeous_," Eisa corrected him immediately. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I can't decide whether that's a good thing or not," Kíli spoke up, and while Fíli made a face and agreed, Eisa nodded vaguely and looked at his chest instead of his face.

There was a murmur from up ahead as the Company passed yet another small waterfall and reached the bottom of the decline, approaching a narrow stone bridge.

"Ooh. Hope no one's afraid of heights," Eisa said with a touch of mischief. Dwarves were, of course, a mountain-dwelling people, but being folk of the earth, they much preferred to be under said mountains as opposed to high up on them. The dwarf maid didn't care two coppers how far she was from the surface of Arda, personally, so she was perfectly fine with walking calmly over a veritable precipice. Others, not always so, though they tried to conceal it.

The bridge ended in an archway and was guarded by two stone statues of elven warriors several times a dwarf's height, and led to a circular patio that seemed to serve as a vestibule. Milling about, the dwarves tried not to let their uneasiness show, although Fíli and Kíli actually appeared to be having a difficult time containing their curiosity.

Eisa had been around elven civilizations before, so this was nothing especially new, but Rivendell had been next on her bucket list of destinations, after her visit to the Shire. How convenient, she thought. However, the convenience of her pertaining knowledge of elves and their culture remained to be seen. If they were to stay here for any substantial amount of time, it would prove useful, but Thorin would probably have an apoplexy if she demonstrated any of her knowledge of "the enemy" just when his disposition towards her had improved to a state of being lukewarm. It was possible that she could try to persuade him into the "know thine enemy" strategy, but that might not prove effective.

"Mithrandir!" A clear voice called out. The Company turned to regard a male elf descending a staircase at the opposite side of the platform.

"Ah, Lindir!" greeted Gandalf in turn, and the elf smiled amicably while making the hand-over-heart gesture for friends. Judging by his dress and the circlet on his brow, Eisa thought, he was not quite nobility but probably a personal attendant or advisor to an elf who was. As the dwarves shifted together, she glanced at Thorin to gauge his reaction to the first elf. He was whispering something snarky to Dwalin that sounded more than slightly rude, and Eisa pressed her lips together and exhaled hard through her nose. This would really be something, all right.

Oh, wonderful. Now Lindir was speaking Sindarin, the elven speech. The dwarves would just love that. Eisa picked out their word for "valley" and that the elves had heard about something, so she assumed that their presence hadn't gone undetected earlier. _I can't imagine why. _She tried not to snort.

Sensitive to the company he was keeping, Gandalf replied in the common tongue and got right to the point. "I must speak with Lord Elrond."

"My Lord Elrond is not here," replied Lindir smartly. Eisa inhaled. This could get uncomfortable without a proper liaison. And how ever convenient for the elf lord to be missing in action.

"Not here?" The wizard's tone had gone from businesslike to severe. "Where is he?"

It looked like a hesitant half-answer was forming on the tip of the elf's tongue, but he was interrupted by a far-off but rapidly approaching horn call that sounded strangely familiar.

With little warning, a host of elves on tall, elegant horses approached the narrow bridge at a swift canter. They showed no indication of stopping, and as soon as everyone had processed the sight, Thorin suddenly shouted first in Khuzdul out of instinct, then in Westron to close ranks, as if they were under attack.

Eisa resisted the urge to groan melodramatically, but was distracted as a hand latched onto her bare wrist, just above her glove, and hauled her into the center of the group. She looked up in surprise and met a quiver of arrows just inches from her nose as Kíli stepped in front of her in what almost seemed like protectiveness.

But of course she hadn't drawn her weapons.

Of course the elves wouldn't harm them; well, not without good reason, at least. For all the judgmental remarks that Eisa had heard among the dwarves, elves were really a very rational, patient, and accommodating race. Perhaps that came with immortality. Either way, dwarves were much more impulsive and quicker to anger—openly at least, since elves also seemed to possess infinite reserves of, well, reserve—and thus didn't quite realize that an elf would not in fact kill one of their kind on sight.

Essentially, it was like the races had been created in opposition against one another. Which, well—they had been.

Eisa noticed that she was crammed in next to a shell-shocked Bilbo as the elves circled the Company imperiously on their pristine horses. Upon meeting her eyes, the hobbit looked confused as to why her posture was so relaxed and almost weary, and why she was making no move to reach for her weapons in what would be considered self-defense, but she just blew out a breath and shrugged resignedly at him.

Finally, she locked in on the leader of the elven group, who called out, "Gandalf!" with what looked suspiciously like amusement. Unlike Lindir, Elrond had an air of majesty about him, and Eisa wondered if the former served the latter. A glance at the look of deference and humility on Lindir's face confirmed her guess.

Elrond was tall and willowy, as were all elves, but for an elf he looked ancient. His long dark brown hair was still thick and shiny, but its recession from his forehead was as pronounced as Thorin's. Delicate lines had just begun to deepen the corners of his eyes and frame his mouth, and although he looked no older than forty for a Man, in elven terms he was practically decrepit. Who knew how many millennia he had seen?

"Lord Elrond. _My friend_," Gandalf greeted him fondly in Sindarin, with half a bow. Eisa was fairly sure that he then joked, "_Where were you?_"

While the rest of the dwarves practiced their death glares, not at all pleased that they couldn't understand what was being said, Eisa listened raptly with an expression of polite interest on her face. It had been a while since she had heard Sindarin.

Elrond's next words indicated that he and his host of elves had been hunting a group of orcs, but the rest of the sentence was lost on Eisa except for the word for "south." The elf dismounted lightly, looking vaguely amused, and confirmed that they had killed some of the orcs near a concealed pass of some sort.

Unable to stop herself, she grinned in comprehension, and Bilbo sent her a confused look out of the corner of her eye. She pressed her lips together in indecision, but then leaned in to whisper to the hobbit: "They were the ones who attacked the orcs."

"Ah," he realized in gratitude, then did a double take to stare at her full on. "Do you…can you understand—?"

"Some," she replied concisely, though not curtly, and went back to concentrating on the conversation. Elrond had embraced Gandalf as an old friend, and thankfully began to speak in the common tongue. Thorin's eyes were steadily darkening, and Dwalin and Glóin looked mutinous.

"Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders," Elrond commented airily. "Something—or someone—has drawn them near."

_Sly old fox_, Eisa thought, just suppressing an inappropriate chuckle. _No wonder you and Gandalf get along._

The wizard stated the obvious. "Ah. That may have been us." He nodded at the dwarves, who muttered and loosened ranks slightly. Thorin took that as his cue to step forward, and Eisa watched him warily over Kíli's shoulder.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thráin," said the elf formally, openly sizing up the dwarf (no pun intended).

"I do not believe we have met." It sounded as if it was physically paining Thorin to exchange pleasantries.

"You have your grandfather's bearing," offered Elrond as an explanation. Somehow, that didn't seem like the only indication at play in the elf's mind. "I knew Thrór when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed?" remarked Thorin dryly. "He made no mention of you."

Eisa nearly slapped a hand over her face in despair. She had certainly had next to zero expectations, but still.

Elrond's expression gave her the impression that he was thinking the same thing and thus was torn between being offended and just giving up and laughing. She decided that she liked the elf lord.

And then he started speaking Sindarin again. Eisa hadn't been focusing, so she didn't get much of it, but whatever he said, it included food, time, offering lodging, and the mention of Gandalf and "open halls."

The dwarves, naturally, did not know this.

After an immensely awkward pause in which no one offered a translation, Eisa was a few seconds away from throwing caution to the winds and speaking up when Glóin growled, "What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?!"

The dwarves began to shout and Gandalf raised his voice above theirs: "No, Master Glóin, he is offering you food."

Another pause passed, in which their pride and prejudice waged war against the force of nature that was a dwarf's appetite. Weapons were lowered and the dwarves quickly huddled together, save a murmuring Thorin and Dwalin. The debate essentially went like this:

"Elves?!"

"Food!"

"But, elves."

"…"

"Food."

"Ah, well." Glóin shifted, clearly conflicted but knowing they would all be fighting a losing battle by refusing. "In that case, lead on."

Lord Elrond and Gandalf the Gray wore twin expressions of distinct smugness.

Eisa smiled and shook her head, muttering to herself that she knew it, when Bilbo trotted up beside her again. "Now, Miss Eisa, I might be mistaken, but can you speak the elven tongue?"

She winced and glanced about them, then lowered her voice. "We can talk more about it later. I don't know if anyone would appreciate…well. You know." The hobbit caught on with her nod in Thorin's direction. "It's considered strange, obviously. This is me we're talking about," she joked. "But yes, I can understand some of it if they're not speaking too quickly. I can't read much, and speaking it is almost completely out of the question." She chortled at a few peculiar and somewhat unfortunate but fond memories. "My tongue was made for dwarvish, not elvish things, and that's for sure."

Bilbo smiled and nodded in acceptance, and they continued on up the stone steps after what Eisa was tempted to self-explanatorily refer to as the Too-Knowledgeable Ancient Duo.

Unbeknownst to the hobbit and the dwarf maid, Kíli was close behind them, and for some reason, when he overheard her last remark, an insistent blush invaded his cheeks.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **It's okay, I called up Tolkien. He's chill with it.

**A/N: **Whoa guys, ten reviews for that last chapter, plus a bunch of new readers? :D Holy Eru, that was nice! Thanks to everyone who replied to the poll - and if you haven't yet, go answer it! It concerns the update schedule in regard to the future movie releases! Ergo, important! So go do it! :D

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* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

_In Which Another Rather Telling Story is Told_

They were being led down stone pathways, through courtyards, and under trellises, always climbing up, and Eisa inferred that they were being given a place of honor in which to take their meal. The elves could probably whip just about anything up with little to no warning anyway, even for guests that might or might not serve as a glaring reminder of racial tensions. Personally, Eisa didn't care much for the prejudices. She was concentrating on the fact that she didn't feel in the least presentable in this beautiful place full of scrolling arches and natural waterfalls that looked as if they had been carefully placed here and there after the city had been built. The previous night's incident—had it really only been last night?—had left them all disheveled, and the breakneck pace of avoiding serious bodily harm since then hadn't helped. But as soon as her nose picked up the first thing that smelled remotely edible, she stopped caring.

The others clearly shared that sentiment (and with much less, if any, thought to their neatness or offending their hosts) as a chorus of growls rose up simultaneously from their stomachs. A particularly aggressive rumble worked its way from Eisa's, and the entire Company turned to stare at Bombur, who was just beside her. He raised his hands in innocence and pointed at the woman, who gave her midriff a long-suffering look and stated candidly, "It's hungry." There were a few chuckles and a guffaw from Bofur.

A long table had been set up for the dwarves in a circular courtyard—a platform, really, with trees growing at the edges. Thorin followed Gandalf and Elrond, splitting off from the group with a nod that clearly said: Balin's in charge, no one do anything stupid but be on your guard, eat as much as you possibly can while it lasts assuming they're not dumb enough to try to poison us, and remember to never trust an elf.

At least, that was what Eisa imagined he meant.

The dwarf maid found herself seated near Dori, Nori, and Ori, with Fíli at her side and Kíli and Bilbo beyond. She nearly flinched noticeably at the thought of the conversation she needed to have with the dark-haired prince, but steeled herself and resolved to get him alone after supper so she could apologize properly.

There was a moment of awkwardness when the dwarves discovered the lack of meat. Dwalin began pawing frantically through the bowls of leafy greens, as if there was a leg of lamb purposely and stealthily hiding from him somewhere on the table. Ori refused to touch the green stuff despite Dori's motherly coaxing, but Bilbo was entirely on board with the whole thing and constructed himself quite a respectable salad. It was probably the most comfortable Eisa had ever seen the hobbit, and she wondered how surreal this must all feel to him. After so many years of living vicariously through his books and maps that he was always telling her about, practically able to recite them word for word, the reality of the world must have been a bit of a happy shock.

Well, perhaps not all happy, she amended, her eyes skimming over his rumpled hair, scuffed and dirty skin, and suffering waistcoat before glancing down at the scrapes on her forearm. They had stopped their slight stinging at some point, and she suddenly felt the phantom sensation of Kíli's fingers brushing lightly over the scratches and the sound of him telling her in a low voice what she already knew.

Fíli glanced at her. She had suddenly blushed. He knew exactly why.

He smirked and went back to joking with his brother.

Meanwhile, Nori nicked yet another one of Eisa's slices of bread. After an embarrassingly long period of time in which she kept refilling her plate in confusion, she caught on. (Days ago, it had taken her a while to realize that he was a closet kleptomaniac in the first place.) She worried as to whether this was a sign that he didn't particularly care for her, since she had narrowed down the cause of his quiet disposition to either shyness or disapproval, but then Ori whispered shyly that it was a good thing and meant he'd taken a liking to her. That was a relief, of course, but then again, the majority of the dwarves _had_ in fact voted to keep her around officially earlier that morning. However, there was a difference between having value to contribute to the quest and being liked as a person. It made her all the more glad that the prospects were looking good on both fronts.

It had been ages since she had heard elvish music. There were several musicians present, who provided calming background noise while others attended to those seated at the table. The dwarves might not have had much of a taste for the music—Óin had stuffed a napkin into his ear trumpet in silent protest—but the elves didn't appear to be taking offense. In fact, the female playing the flute just looked all the more amused.

Eisa channeled most of her energy into acting natural with Fíli and Kíli, whom she had to convince that what was on the table was in fact edible. She found that distracting herself by recalling and rattling off everything she could remember about plants, grains, and herbs helped immensely with avoiding uncomfortable eye contact.

Two of the elves stationed in Eisa's direct line of vision, one with a set of chimes and one seated at a large harp, subtly put their heads together, and she glanced up at them out of reflex. She watched their lips move intently to see what she could understand, and from what she could guess, the exchange went something like this:

"_Is the young mistress really of Aulë's race?_"

"_She must be, although my first instinct is to deny it; she is much too fair for that_."

Said young mistress nearly choked on her own saliva and blinked at the two, suddenly unable to look away as a blush crept up her face. Fíli and Kíli noticed, and while Fíli watched in curious amusement, Kíli downright bristled when he saw where her line of sight led.

Needless to say, the elves detected her reaction as well and turned to look at her. They promptly schooled their features back into polite reserve, but continued to look at her. After all, there was no way that she could have understood them.

Eisa tried to keep herself from blushing further as she doggedly maintained eye contact with the male who had spoken second. "_If that was flattery, then I am honored_," she finally said in clumsily accented but distinct Sindarin.

Everything going on around her essentially stopped.

The elves' fingers and eyebrows twitched, and they looked just about as shocked as she had ever seen an elf look.

Fíli and Kíli's jaws dropped impressively, and Kíli let out a very small noise.

Bilbo struggled to get a good look at her around the brothers.

Ori stared and then began to fumble furiously for one of his notebooks.

The general consensus beyond that was shock and disbelief, which were so imposing that there was hardly even room for the somewhat expected flicker of betrayal from the rest of the Company.

"_Elf-friend_," said the harp player eventually, trying very hard to keep his cool as he continued to play. He posed it as a question, a confirmation.

"_Yes_," she replied, keeping focused on the elf's eyes, and one side of her mouth suddenly quirked up. "Yes, I am."

"You're what?" Kíli found his voice rather abruptly, doing his best to kill the mood.

"An elf-friend." She looked down to smile gently at the table before facing him. This place was dredging up all sorts of forgotten details in her mind, and it was turning her into quite the nostalgic puddle. "I guess that was one story I never told, huh?" she chuckled quietly, half to herself.

"And I don't suppose you know what that means, lassie," put in a cranky Dwalin gruffly but almost sympathetically from farther down the table. It was the kind of sympathy you would use on a child, as if she had just said something incredibly offensive and you would take the high road by explaining things calmly instead of becoming angry with her.

Eisa grudgingly appreciated the sentiment, but it was ill placed. "Of course I know what it means, Mister Dwalin," she frowned at him, regaining both her composure and her usual proud posture. "I consider it an honor."

He was taken aback and, not knowing what else to do, resolved to glare at her, which she returned in force.

"Er, Eisa, just to be clear on this whole thing," Fíli broke in pacifyingly, "why don't you tell us the story? Maybe then it will make sense to everyone." His thinly veiled, vaguely panicked glance around the still-dumbstruck table spoke for itself.

"Fair enough," she agreed, settling back a bit on her stool. "Let's have a story, shall we? Oh, where to begin… Ready, Ori?" One side of her mouth quirked up.

The meek dwarf looked up from where he had already begun scratching away at the notebook he had extracted from his person. He had essentially been documenting the entire trip, and while Eisa assumed he was telling everything in the form of one long, elaborate journal-type story, she had yet to see the proof. "O-oh. Yes, Miss Eisa. Thank you."

"Splendid. Now, let's begin with where I was." Once again, she had everyone's attention, but this had happened so often by now because of her stories that the Company's focus barely even ruffled her anymore. She glanced contemplatively at the sky and straightened her back before folding her hands on the table. "I was following the Anduin north, and I'd just found where it met up with the road, thank goodness, near the southern edge of the Greenwood." Most of the dwarves nodded knowledgeably, but a few looked slightly lost and nearly all wondered what she had been doing _there_. Of course, it was still a mystery to them all where she had been raised (other than the hint that she had been born somewhere in Gondor), but wedged in between Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains was not the first place they had thought of when she would say that she'd traveled nearly everywhere.

"Minding my own business, really, was all I was doing," Eisa shrugged. "I had to decide between going west and taking my chances passing the woods of Lórien, not to mention the whole ordeal of crossing the mountains—" a few of the dwarves nearly hissed and looked around uncomfortably at the mention of the territory of more bloody elves, plus the rumors of the elf-witch that dwelt there— "and going east and north, up the river and through the Greenwood. But my choice was rather made for me," she smiled wryly, "because no sooner had I determined that I had indeed found the road than an orc pack decided to hunt me down."

Bilbo half-squeaked in alarm and coughed a few times in a vague attempt to cover it up, and Kíli was watching her with that intense stare.

"There was...a considerable number of them. Over a dozen, two maybe? It was years ago." Not to mention she'd been only in her thirties and downright terrified. "I'd never actually seen an orc before—I was young—but at least I was fast, because I ran away quick as I could. Which meant west. I thought for sure I was going to die, and I didn't even notice I was nearing the fringes of a forest until they had begun to catch up with me and a few just...dropped dead, right there." She leaned forward on her elbows. "There were elven arrows everywhere. I fought off one or two, but I was nearly paralyzed with fear, and I would have been dead indeed if the troop of elves hadn't come along just then." Clearly her companions were experiencing some very strong conflicting feelings involving the protection of those they considered comrades weighed against their hatred of elves, and no one spoke. The harp player continued to watch the events unfold in interest, not even glancing at his instrument as the notes continued to flow on uninterrupted.

"Granted, they didn't exactly open their arms to me, of course," Eisa chuckled. "But they'd never seen someone like me before, and they were young and comparatively open-minded. It was pure luck that they came by when they did, really—they were just leaving Lórien to return to their home in the Greenwood. As it turned out, their leader was one of the sons of the Elvenking himself," she admitted hesitantly.

That got her a reaction. A rather heated one, shall we say. "And it just goes to show!" she nearly shouted over them all to get them to quiet down. "It just goes to show that you cannot judge someone's character by the deeds of their kin! I did not judge the prince, nor he me, and the company he kept followed suit. We were all perfectly civil and polite and it was really very nice, and when they noticed my interest they even taught me some Sindarin—that's what it's called, you know—as much as they could in those few days. And then I later studied the language when I could, in libraries and such. So that's how and why I learned. And just look, it's been handy in a pinch," she pointed out, eager to lighten the atmosphere if she could. The prince Legolas had named her an elf-friend, after all, and she took that to heart.

There was a pause, and she couldn't quite decide whether it was an uncomfortable one or not. The harp player and the flute player had been listening intently the whole time, and the male nodded in satisfaction and what might have been slight mirth.

Then faithful Fíli spoke up. "So, you like libraries?"

Eisa slapped both hands over her face and groaned, rubbing at her eyes in a most undignified manner. "Honestly? _That _is what you got out of that whole story?"

"No, no, it's just that I'm curious. I never pictured you surrounded by old, dusty books, is all," the blonde shrugged, and everyone else took that as their cue to file away the story for future reference and turn back to their own private conversations. Ori, however, was still rapt with attention as he continued to scrawl frantically, and Eisa wondered absently how his extremities hadn't given out or just plain fallen off yet.

She perked up a bit. "Oh, no, I adore learning! The documents and records that some major cities hold are incredible. In the main library of Minas Tirith, for example, I once found some old scrolls on a study of ancient architecture—I mean, obviously at the time it was quite modern—and I was in the White City, after all, and you can't get much more visually impressive than that, especially from a distance—" Ori chuckled something quietly to himself as he scribbled even harder as though it were no large feat, and Eisa suddenly cut herself off. "Er. Sorry. Rambling again."

Kíli leaned out around his brother, a fascinated smirk on his lips. "You're a bookworm, aren't you?"

"I—a bit," she said defensively, blushing lightly. It had very little to do with any embarrassment about her choice of hobbies.

Ori, who was still deep in concentration but had brightened unexpectedly at Kíli's revelation, began to question her bashfully but with perseverance about the elves she had met, and she was thoroughly distracted through the end of the meal.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **This Took a bit longer than usual to work out! Really? What are you Tolkien about?

**A/N: **Moving on from my bad puns. The chapter's slightly shorter...but worth it ;)  
The poll results have started to show some trends, but keep responding, guys! It's super quick and you'll thank yourself later :P  
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Enjoy, everyone! :)

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

_In Which Wrongs Are Righted and We Discover That the Elves Are Really In For It_

Thorin was still up to his kingly eyeballs in discussion with the Too-Knowledgeable Ancient Duo, so the Company's plan was essentially to wander about, to do their best to be obnoxious, and to find a place to hunker down for the night.

Eisa, for one, was as sure as all Ilúvatar's creation that she wasn't going to forsake what might be her only chance to explore Rivendell (for a long while, anyway). However, she had awkward and more immediate social matters to attend to, and she went in search of Kíli after cornering Bilbo after supper. The hobbit was nowhere near obtuse enough to spread gossip, and had appeared to immediately understand where the dwarf maid was coming from when she explained her embarrassing mishap with Kíli in the Hidden Passage. But his little parting smile was grating on the edges of her thoughts.

She blew out a sigh as she completed the rounds of another section of courtyards and pavilions. Next would have to be the terraces on this level. Honestly, where could he have gotten to in so little time? All she wanted was to find her friend and get this over with.

Yes; she had decided that the heirs to the throne of Erebor were indeed her friends. They had said as much, and the label nearly made her giddy. She had never had a friend before. And by that token, it wasn't something she was about to go and ruin over a silly little overreaction.

Well, maybe not an overreaction, she considered as she mulled over yet again how to phrase it. She rounded a corner, circling a row of columns that overlooked the valley to the south like sentinels hidden in the craftsmanship. Of course, she wanted to be prepared in what she said to him, since rambling never ended well for her. That was once thing she had rather recently discovered; before the Company, she wasn't sure if she had ever rambled so much in the entire fifty-two years of her life combined. So, she could call it a…a transgression of boundaries, perhaps? A slip in propriety, to be sure, but that wasn't quite the phrase she was looking—

A hand suddenly shot out from the backside of one of the pillars and latched onto her arm, tugging her behind it. She didn't scream as her back was pressed against the stone, but rather slipped the knife from the sheath on her right forearm and held it in a reverse grip to the offender's throat.

The offender who was a bit taller than her and wore a wicked grin to go with his mischievous dark eyes.

She snorted and sheathed the knife. Had she not remembered exactly why she was looking for this particular dwarf, she might have come up with some witty rebuke to throw at him in jest, but none came to mind. Instead, to her horror, that terrible seizing feeling lurched into her ribcage again. "Don't do that," she scolded him, barely maintaining the connection between her brain and her mouth.

Kíli's smile broadened. "Just trying to keep you on your toes."

"Naturally," she deadpanned, realizing that she was still fairly pinned against the column with not much room to speak of between the two of them and that he was still loosely retaining his hold on her arm. His hand had slipped to her elbow, and it tingled even through all her layers of clothing. If that was even possible. "I was just looking for you, as a matter of fact," she told him resolutely. The wrench in her gut had transformed into a chill that spread up her back and chest and settled itself around her shoulders, nearly making her shiver as it touched her collarbone and the nape of her neck.

"Mm-hm." It didn't seem like he was looking for an answer, nor was he encouraging her to explain herself further. It was more as if he was waiting for an adequate response to form in his head. After a moment, Eisa began to wonder what was taking so long to get through that admittedly thick skull of his, but then he spoke up. "What exactly _was_ that?" he finally asked with an unassuming sort of curiosity.

"What was what?" she blurted out automatically, but she knew better.

"You kissed me."

Well, all right, she had been planning something perhaps a little more tactful than that, but that was fine. Her first, very coherent response was "Um." Her stomach jolted again. What was it that she had planned on saying? "Right. No, no I—I mean I'm sorry."

He raised his eyebrows expectantly. Great Aulë, was he _enjoying_ this? She had to start speaking again, or she didn't know what would happen. "I didn't—I wasn't thinking." Oh Valar, now her heart was pounding. "I was really worried, you know, the whole thing was a bit terrifying in hindsight, and, well, when your friends are in trouble I guess you get a little—not you, I mean I, me, but hypothetically, in a crisis—" she wished but didn't wish that he would stop scrutinizing her so closely with those gorgeous dark eyes— "I suppose I panicked, only a bit, not much, but the moment was so intense, and—and I was so exhausted, so clearly I wasn't thinking straight, I mean…"

"What does thinking straight have to do with anything?"

She really hoped he wasn't aware of how his suspiciously calm, inquisitive murmur made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and forced her breathing into quicker and shallower measures. "I just—obviously it's got everything to do with it!" Mahal, he was close! "If I hadn't been feeling so—um. Affected?" The pitch of her voice was rising embarrassingly. And her stomach. Her stomach was going absolutely mad. "Then I wouldn't have—well. And so I wanted to find you so I could apologize properly for my behavior and I know that it was out of bounds and not right and entirely improper and, and—and I'm sorry," she managed all in one big rush. That settled it; her heart was going to go into overdrive and have a serious problem right then and there. "That's all. Excuse me," she nearly squeaked, and ducked from under one of his arms to fairly sprint in the direction from which she had come.

Kíli blinked at the space on the pillar where her face had been. He didn't follow her, but merely made his was back slowly to rejoin the Company. Although he kept looking at his hands and worrying his lower lip between his teeth pensively.

* * *

In the meantime, the dwarves had downright commandeered a courtyard. As darkness fell, they indulged in a larger-than-usual fire. Not to mention that there seemed to be a disproportionate amount of food being roasted on sticks over said fire. Eisa was sure that they must have accepted extra provisions from their hosts until she caught Nori surreptitiously drawing a string of sausage links from his coat, followed by an absurd quantity of potatoes. She cast her eyes skyward and chose not to comment.

Kíli returned as well once the fire was really going, and Eisa pretended not to notice as she sat near Ori and took a leaf out of Nori's disreputable book by trying to steal glances at the little scholar's work. So far, she wasn't very successful, and therefore was almost painfully conscious of Kíli plopping down beside her.

She all but ordered out loud that her innards remain securely in place and unshakable.

"Hey," he said cheerfully, as expected, but it was still a relief to hear.

Eisa turned to him, and by his bright smile she concluded that the whole little mess had just blown over. "Good evening," she replied with a shy but thankful smile of her own. Fíli conveniently chose that moment to join the two of them. Ori scooted over eagerly to make room—he definitely had a manly infatuation with the young blonde prince—but continued to shield the contents of his journal from prying eyes.

Fíli blew a puff of pipe-smoke playfully in Eisa's face. By now she knew to tightly close all her facial orifices, and Kíli chortled at the face she had to make. "Where'd you get off to?" asked the blonde, sticking his pipe back in his mouth, and Eisa wondered in embarrassment what he knew or guessed.

"Exploring," she stated mulishly. "We don't know how long we'll have here, after all. And Thorin would rather run me through with that new sword of his than hear me say so, but I rather like it here."

"It helps that you understand them, probably," Kíli remarked, fishing for his own pipe. "Which I still can't get my head around."

"It wouldn't be the first thing, Brother," teased Fíli. Kíli protested and the two tried to slap each other upside the head around Eisa, to little avail due to her quick reflexes.

Just then, there was an unusual creaking noise that sounded rather like a goose being stepped on. It was coming from—oh, dear—the table under Bombur's ample backside. Nori was watching him in sneaky anticipation as the portly man stuffed his face, and rightly so, for when Bofur called his brother's name and tossed him a complimentary sausage, the poor table simply couldn't take any more and collapsed with a squawk of alarm from Bombur. Bofur cackled delightedly, nearly toppling over, and even huge Dwalin guffawed loudly. Kíli almost choked on his pipe-stem as the trio and everyone else burst out laughing as well.

In a moment, when they had all gotten themselves back under control, Eisa realized what, or rather who, was missing. "Where is Thorin?" she asked abruptly and not without concern. Surely he wasn't still in council.

"With Gandalf and the head elf, doing secretive, important things," Fíli provided sagely. "Our Burglar went with them as well."

"Though no one quite seems to know why," Bofur put in from nearby, shrugging casually.

She immediately felt a bit bad that she had overlooked Bilbo's absence as well. "That's certainly strange. Probably just something else Gandalf has up his sleeve," she sighed.

"Hear, hear," Dwalin muttered. "Crafty old spell-worker." He grabbed a chunk of what looked like boards that had been nailed together, and snapped them effortlessly at the joint to toss them onto the fire.

Eisa bridged the connection in a moment. "Oh, for—don't tell me you're dismantling their furniture?" she despaired.

"They have all the time in the world to make more," Kíli pointed out with a snicker. Apparently even he had caught on early.

"Brilliant," Eisa muttered, eyeing the table that Bombur had effectively crushed into so many chunks of firewood and splinters.

"Speaking of all the time in the world." Fíli leaned back against the wall with a groan. "What I wouldn't do for an ale right now."

Everyone within earshot immediately dissolved into a chorus of pining noises.

"I'd drink you under the table," lamented Kíli to his brother.

"No, I'd drink _you_ under the table," Fíli retorted, but with far more longing than venom.

"And we could sing good drinking songs, like we used to…"

"And dance on the tables…"

"And pull pranks…"

"And accidentally start brawls…"

"And devise ways to get the elves inebriated…" Eisa put in, almost to herself.

The two paused, looked at her, looked at each other, and burst out laughing. She grinned sheepishly but broadly, and watched with enjoyment to see who would rupture an internal organ first as they imagined the endless possibilities.

Kíli nearly fell over, and he was very close to her when she suddenly realized that she had been quite busily admiring him. The way his shoulders shook when he laughed; his wide, handsome daredevil grin; how his eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that made her want to smile back reflexively; the dark scruff along his jawline and how she knew it would tickle her palms if she took his face in her hands—

She suddenly flushed hard as she was hit with the inexplicable urge to seize him again and just plant a kiss right on his cheek as if she had every right to do so.

Coughing to right herself, she realized that no one was paying any attention to her anyway, for they were adamantly discussing how best to start up a drinking song.

Now, when dwarves drink, they _drink_. And when they sing, they _sing_. And the combination was either very, very enjoyable or very, very dangerous, depending on one's perspective.

"We're going to keep the entire valley up all night, aren't we?" Eisa realized, not sure whether to laugh or to cite the unwritten rules of hospitality.

"Think of it this way," Fíli advised her, sensing her conflict even if he didn't feel one in the slightest.

"This may be our only night ever spent in an elvish community," Kíli continued with a suspiciously straight face.

"And if we don't give them a good dose of dwarvish culture now—"

"—who else is likely to come around and do them the honor anytime in the near future?"

Yes. This would be an all-night affair for sure.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer:** ...And this one Took Hob'bit less time! -credit to Shes-The-Proto-Type. And the quick song in this chapter is © Tolkien as well!

**A/N: **Chapter twenty, yay! :D Disclaimerception? Hah. IS ANYONE ELSE STILL ABUSING THE REPLAY BUTTON ON THE DESOLATION OF SMAUG TRAILER? Sweet baby Eru, I legitimately can't stop watching it.  
Yay, more poll votes! :D Thanks, everyone! I'm going to keep it open for another couple weeks, then evaluate and let you all know what the deal will be.  
Advance warning! I'm going to be in England from the 26th of this month to the 3rd of July with extra travel days on both ends (currently at summer house, have to drive 500 miles back home to fly out of the country and vice versa) so that will be a gap in the updates. I'll leave you with a nice cliffhanger xD Nah, I'll be nice...maybe :P  
Also, screw the interwebs. I just lost forty minutes' worth of review replies and edits here.  
Maple-bacon-bourbon doughnuts (hey, apparently it's a thing, and it sounds freaking delicious) or other doughnutty confection of choice for: **Hiding in the Shadow** (Aw well thank you dear, haha I figured as much. Heck, I'd have a problem around Mr. Short, Dark, and Handsome too x'D I'm not sure he even knows how he's feeling about this whole thing yet! And yes, I sense disapproving elders and jealous sons of Durin in the future :) Enjoy, love), **AemiKili** (Teehee. Yes, I figured you would also hugely appreciate moments like that :D Oh thank you, I just can't get enough of writing Kili. He just makes me want to melt on the inside ;) Enjoy!), **erutan**, **dreamin'BIG**, **AccioNimbus2000**, **Singer of Water** (Unf, you have no idea how tempting it was to use that as a solution :P but alas, it was too early for that. Haha! I'm glad you like my word usage...I was once told in school that I sound thesaurized, but, well, it's just me :) Enjoy!), **Fluff-Loving Guest** (Heehee, glad you approve! Both of the name and of the chapter. Thanks and enjoy the update!),** Shes-The-Proto-Type** (Awwww thank you! That's a fantastic stylistic compliment for me :) Welcome to the story, by the way! I'm happy that you're enjoying the fun. And that 117% just made me giggle for very little reason. Hope you don't mind the disclaimerception :D which is definitely a word), **Iamnotcrying** (Heeeeeeehehehehe. Gotcha! x'D That was, after all, my intention... :P Thanks for the reaction!), **InfiniteLoveLiz**, **valeries26**, **BabyKitty91**, **DragonOwl** (Heh, glad you found that amusing. That was literally the first weird simile to pop into my head, so I rolled with it :P Thank you!), **RiverBleu**, **codefoxwolf**, **Maliumpkinss**, **AslanPrincess**, **Ninediva**, **Abyss Prime** (Antsy, are we? ;D In good time, dear, in good time. Don't worry, I'm practically dying of anticipation as well!), **Korvescence**, **Jess** (Good gracious, woman, get your aliases under control! xD Well that does simplify things, doesn't it? I had my suspicions but didn't want to mess things up if I was wrong. Aashdjga;lfff you are so right! Yeah, I think I'm going to like her as a character, as much as people are hating on the whole rumored Kiliel thing. You know in the trailer where she walks by what we have to assume is a cell and she kind of pauses? That is totally Kili she's looking at; I'm gonna call that right now. I think she'll make an appearance, yes; I'll have to see how they flesh her out in the movie, but hey, why not? :) Thanks!), **Amber** (YES! Fangirl overload mode achieved! (punches air) Ehehe. I'm glad I've induced this whole reaction, it's just lovely :D Thank you dear! Please, continue to enjoy :) And oh my Valar, you use Mordor as a swear too. Marry me?), **Chibi-dj**, **kaoru970**, **LatinBookReader**, and **every single reader out there**!  
Love you all, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

_In Which We Witness the Inebriated Adventures of the Company, Including Silly Kíli, Touchy-Feely Fíli, and Easily Entertained Eisa_

Four songs and one and a half kegs of mysteriously acquired ale later, the competitions began. (Except the perpetual belching contest, which had begun a mere eight seconds after the opening of the first keg.) From the fastest pint to odd party tricks, let it never be said that a dwarf doesn't enjoy a good bout of friendly competition.

And the challenges had not diminished upon Thorin and Bilbo's return, bearing the ultimatum that the Company would need to stay in Rivendell for about two weeks, due to something complicated about a moon map that no one really understood. Especially while under the influence. On the contrary, the dwarves grew even rowdier, as if to send a message to the elves that they had _this_ to look forward to for the next fortnight.

"Sure you can handle that?" smirked Kíli after a while, half due to his cockiness coming out and half for the sake of teasing his friend.

Eisa fixed him with a look. "I can drink you under the table."

"We have a challenger!" bellowed Óin, suddenly in both their faces and with suspiciously accurate hearing as his brother roared in laughter in the background.

"What—no! There isn't the slightest bit of challenging going on here. Really, no need to—" Eisa rambled on in vain. The damage was done, and both she and Kíli were half-shepherded, half-carried to opposite sides of the table that Bombur hadn't demolished. "Oh no," she muttered.

"Why, afraid you'll be outclassed?" Kíli asked loudly, slowly making his way toward full intoxication.

Eisa, on the other hand, tended to go through an aggressive phase before being hit by the effects of the alcohol all at once. She glared daggers at him and snatched her mug off the table, not even looking at what was inside. "Bring it on, dwarf boy."

"Now that's more like it!" he crowed in triumph, grasping his pint with both hands and tossing it back with enthusiasm.

* * *

"Fíli," Eisa began in fascination, "why is your hair so perfect? It is just so beautiful. Your braids are all so nice and neat and even and organized and neat and—I already said that—they're just so _perfect_. And blonde. So blonde. It's like…like liquid gold or something, like sunshine and rainbows and—no, not rainbows, but—so much sunshine!" she insisted.

There were dwarves strewn all over the courtyard, a couple snoozing already but the majority either lounging around enjoying their drunkenness or wandering around so that everyone else could (theoretically) enjoy their drunkenness.

Kíli was doing the latter, and reeled past where his brother and Eisa were sprawled on the flagstone floor. "Eisaaaa," he whined. "Are you ignoring me on purpose?" In addition to the overconfidence, he also became whiny and rather selfish when drunk. Essentially, he reverted to an arrogant tween.

"Silly Kíli—heh, silly Kíli—sit down, I've told you, you're going to injure someone! Mr. Perfect Balance, indeed," she chastised him, making a swipe at the hem of his coat and missing. He spun and plopped his behind down on the floor next to her anyway. "I could never ignore you, but you don't have any braids anyhow, silly! That's what we're talking about, you know. Or I am. And you're not blonde. But I love your hair too. You all have beautiful hair. Does it run in your family? I bet it does. No, you know what I love?" She scooted closer to him, propped up on her hands to look right into his face. "Your eyes. You have such lovely eyes."

His brow furrowed as he concentrated unsteadily. "But—but—no," he declared. The thinking process seemed to be physically painful for him. Or just constipation-inducing. It was unclear. "No, you're the one with the pretty eyes."

Eisa's countenance went worryingly serious, and she fixed those eyes on her friend. "Kíli, silly Kíli. What color are my eyes?"

"I…I don't know," responded the brunette in fascination, as if he had contemplated this question before and yet as if the notion had never once crossed his mind. "I don't even know. Sort of gray, but not. Not like rainclouds—earthier—but not brown either, and with a little bit of greenish, like the leaves right before they start to change and fall—you have _nature eyes_!" he whispered loudly in a sudden revelation.

"_No_, I have queer potentially-crossbreed eyes!" she corrected him sternly.

"Eisa," whimpered Fíli from somewhere above her as she sat cross-legged, and then she found herself being hugged enthusiastically by the sunshine-haired dwarf. "You're not strange! You're perfectly…perfectly," he announced matter-of-factly. "And that's it." He wriggled earnestly and squeezed Eisa tighter.

"Oof—all right, Fíli—whatever you say. Oh, look, it's Ori. Here, come here, Ori!" She stopped just short of whistling for the young dwarf lad, who turned in surprise, a bit unsteady on his feet. "Ori is I swear the sweetest thing to ever walk Arda, and you know what I bet he'd love? A Fíli hug."

"ORI!" Fíli cried exuberantly, detaching immediately and launching himself at Ori.

Eisa chuckled to herself. "Adorable, the two of them. I think I'll adopt one. Or maybe both. Wish I could."

"Eisa."

She twisted back around to regard Kíli, now very close to her face and taking her by the shoulders. Embarrassingly, she was reminded of her silly actions earlier in the morning—had it only been this morning?—and was about to thoughtlessly babble something to that effect when Kíli, thank the Valar, kept talking.

"You. Have beautiful eyes." He was focused straight on her, rigid as an arrow even in his intoxication. "And don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

She flat-out began to giggle. "Kíliiii, you'll start to embarrass me if you're not careful," she informed him, but he only grinned confidently and pulled back.

"Good! Maybe I should, once in a while."

She then glanced around them furtively and whispered to him, "I have a secret."

He enthusiastically imitated her motions, then scooted towards her. "What kind of secret?"

"A—" she briefly dissolved into more giggles— "a secretive secret!"

"Are you going to tell me this secretive secret?" Their knees were almost touching.

"Only if you come closer!" she sang, and he bent his head so that she could whisper it to him.

Her breath tickled his ear and fluttered the hairs that were coming loose from behind it when she giggled again, and then she whispered "You're my favorite" and retreated quickly.

He shot her a cocky but private grin. "Excellent. I won't tell," he whispered back. "Whoa." Swaying, he nearly toppled over backwards and would have landed flat on his back had Eisa not seized him by the front of his jerkin in a sudden bout of decent reaction time.

Suddenly, a roar rose up from the dwarves, and the two looked up to see that everyone had started playing their improvised instruments and stomping their feet, much as they had in Bag End several weeks ago. But no, Eisa realized after a moment of watching in delight; these were real instruments that the dwarves were pulling from their packs.

"Oh, Brother!" called Fíli from behind them. Kíli turned and his brother pulled him to his feet with one hand before producing a fiddle from behind his back. "I think it's time we give these a go again," grinned the blonde.

"I agree."

It was amazing, the things that dwarves could still do with complete accuracy even when inebriated. Bofur had pulled out his clarinet and was having a grand old time, and Eisa saw with surprise that his cousin was happily playing his own clarinet. Bombur pattered away on a small drum, and the Ri brothers (as she had begun to affectionately call them in her head) all played flutes.

She had to do a triple take when she spotted Dwalin and Balin with twin viols propped up against their knees.

But Fíli and Kíli were the most fun. They cavorted about the circle, fiddling away and laughing as if there were nowhere else they would rather be. There was no entirely organized melody or rhythm, and yet the Company fell into flawlessly complimentary parts of the whole. Even those who had no instruments—Óin, Glóin, and Thorin, as well as Eisa—stomped and clapped with varying measures of enthusiasm, and Dori was without a doubt humming along as he took occasional breaks from playing his flute.

So Eisa figured that the least she could do would be to start a dance.

This was perfectly acceptable—reveled in, in fact—in dwarven culture, although if one was betrothed or married, both partners would have to be present and either willing or unwilling to let their spouse dance with another. Hobbits danced with one another with reckless abandon, as Eisa had experienced in the Shire, and so choosing the safest option, she skipped across the circle that had formed in a beeline for Bilbo. He was sitting by Bofur with his mood distinctly improved, clapping his hands and likely moved along by the ale he had drunk.

Eisa seized both his hands and hauled him to his feet with alarming speed. "Come on, Bilbo!" At his babbled denial, she grinned and pulled him along rather aggressively, forgetting her much greater strength over the shorter hobbit. "It's not hard at all!" Dwarf dances weren't at all organized. Really it was just a load of spinning and slamming your feet into the ground and kicking your heels up.

They whirled about in the middle of the circle for a while, and eventually the hobbit ended up laughing just as hard as the dwarf maid. Soon enough, every dwarf was on his feet, stomping and weaving around each other in a sort of mad game of follow-the-leader, instruments and all. Even Thorin got involved, which was a sight stranger than belief.

Fíli and Ori had engaged in a completely ridiculous musical battle, fiddle against flute, and judging by the occasional squeak coming from the flute, Ori was barely breathing well enough to play in between fits of giggles. Kíli surely wouldn't be far behind those two, but when Eisa turned her head to look for the younger prince, she found him grabbing her hand and spinning her about, the sneak. He had bestowed his fiddle upon a confused Óin and cheerfully joined the fray with both hands free, which was a good thing since about half the Company had formed a circle of joint hands.

There were any number of dances that could be performed in a ring, but every dwarf could perform the most basic ones, and it wasn't noticeable even if one hadn't the slightest idea what one was doing. Namely Bilbo, who had been quite literally dragged into all this. But he didn't even mind; it was the best time he had had in a good while.

Eisa found with satisfaction that she still remembered the more complex steps from the dances she'd learned in Belegost, and with her head stuffed with the wool of tipsiness, she didn't mind showing off a bit. (She was also very aware of the warmth of Kíli's palm and the way their gloved fingers fit together, but she blamed that on the ale as well.) So before too long she ended up at the center of two concentric circles, spinning with her feet flying at a thousand leagues a minute.

The tune of the dwarves' instruments began to morph, and Eisa's first thought at the shift in key was of a drinking song she'd heard not so long ago. "Bilbo!" she cried, seeking the hobbit out with a wide grin. "The one about the Green Dragon!"

Clearly he had been coaxed into more drink, because he immediately took up the tune: "You can search far and wide, you can drink the whole town dry—" Eisa joined in, although she still couldn't sing to save her life— "but you'll never find a beer so brown as the one we drink in our hometown!" The dwarves on the inner circle had begun to clap loudly and roar with laughter. "You can keep your fancy ales; you can drink 'em by the flagon! But the only brew for the brave and true…comes from the Green Dragon!" Somehow, pints had ended up in both their hands, and they toasted one another cheerfully.

After her first swig, Eisa froze. Thorin—normally detached, serious, brooding Thorin, future King Under the Mountain—was laughing.

Well, laughing might have been an exaggeration. He was showing his teeth in a manner that was born of amusement rather than aggression, and his shoulders were shaking. But it was enough to be called a chuckle at the least, and Eisa quickly buried her face in her pint again lest he see her and ruin the expression.

Before she and Bilbo knew it, their free hands were each snatched and they were whisked away into the throng again. The chain of hands traveled away faster than anyone could keep up with, and once they were all in a circle, someone broke a link and began to weave in and out of the circle of bodies. Eisa was sure she would dislocate a shoulder when Kíli twisted away from her to duck around his brother, but she followed sure as anything, tugging a chuckling Nori along. When the pattern began to deteriorate, the tune of the instruments—which were still going, by some miracle—changed yet again and Eisa and the others cheered as they recognized the corresponding dance.

All the dancing dwarves paired off quickly and began forming archways with their joint hands, creating a long tunnel. Eisa had ended up with a jollier-than-usual Bofur, who was having a fantastic time of it and had clearly had plenty to drink. She lost no time in grinning encouragingly at a partially terrified Ori, who was one half of the pair at the end.

The other half was Dwalin, and in his drunkenness he clearly had no problem with waltzing down the middle with the scribe in tow.

Nori laughed even harder at this, and Dori didn't look quite as disapproving as he usually did when nearly anyone came into contact with his youngest brother. The two brothers followed along quickly, being next in line, and did a fair amount of wholehearted stumbling along the way. Bofur and Eisa were next, which was boatloads of fun. She ended up wearing his hat at some point, and promptly decided that she'd like to adopt the toymaker as some sort of familial relation, possibly a cousin or an uncle.

Once each pair had cycled through—fortunately, the ones who were partaking in the dance made an even number—there were several measures of the song allotted to traditional partner-switching. Everyone skipped in and out of each other, arms raised with the palm flat in order to meet each other halfway and make a circle and a half around each other before moving on. When the music-makers decided, the song would revert back to the previous tune, and each pair at that time would join hands to form the archways yet again.

It went on like this for some time. Eisa found herself paired with nearly everyone except, most notably, Fíli and Kíli, who had somehow managed to stick by each other for the majority of the time and performed increasingly ridiculous maneuvers as they danced down the line together. Finally there seemed to be some sort of unspoken agreement, because on one round Fíli very intentionally snatched Eisa up as his partner and then spun them around so much when their turn came that they could both hardly see straight. The ale, of course, wasn't helping in that respect, but that was a matter of perspective.

The next time the switch came, Kíli did the same thing, and Eisa's heart pounded a bit more than it had when Fíli had surprised her by suddenly appearing out of nowhere. But she didn't notice that.

What she did notice was that he had doffed his gloves at some point, and that his hands were solid and calloused but still so careful when he held her closer than was probably appropriate while they made their way under the arches of joint hands that occasionally had to part due to their height. He was perfectly courteous in taking her right hand in his left, but his grip around her waist bore a bit less of familiarity and a bit more of something else. But that last pint made them both laugh and spin that something else away without another thought.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **Even in other countries, I still won't own Tolkien's world.

**A/N: **(Squirms) Yikes, guys, I was going to give you more than this before I head out of the country!~ I've been busy starting work for the summer, then leaving, and having to send off my course requests for college before I leave, and swearing violently at my allergies, and just blargh. Drivel. Anyway. A load of new readers these past couple chapters, if I'm not mistaken! :D Welcome everyone, and I swear I'll get something to you ASAP once I'm back on U.S. soil and reunited with my laptop, which is my baby.  
A thousand thanks (150 REVIEWS GUYS HOLY ERU I LOVE YOU ALL) to: **Hiding in the Shadow** (You know, I think you're consistently my first reviewer every chapter :') Thanks dear. Teehee... Aha, that's very interesting that you think that... And I mean, fsshh, isn't inebriation just the answer to everything? Er. #OnlyInMiddleEarth), **Singer of Water** (Ha! Right?! I was super pumped up while editing that chapter, I was listening to catchy dance music and pop Latino. Come on, you know the Company secretly listens to the Billboard Top 20), **Abyss Prime** (Thank you! Heh, I'm sure others share that sentiment... Hey, if it was me, I'd be joining in), **AemiKili** (Eeek :D I'll take it as a good sign that I keep producing new favorites of yours :P Ahhhh you live in England?! Wicked. It's funny 'cause I leave just in time for Independence Day. Like, our Independence Day. From England. Irony strikes again. If I see you on the streets of London or something, I shall make lots of noise and flail a lot. You will definitely notice), **the Random Olliphaunt** (And I believe that just about sums up that chapter in three words xD), **OhMyAdrienne**, **Jess** (Understandable, understandable :P I guessed. Heh, get it? Guessed...guest...heh. Aw, yay! I have a bit of an obsession with hands, and that sounds a bit odd, but I've always been able to draw them well while most people can't, and I feel like they're such an important point of physical contact in interpersonal relations...I dunno. But thanks! :DDD You live in England, too?! Wait, so if I run through the streets of London or wherever just yelling JJEEESSSSSS will you hear me?! 8D), **Ranger Maestro**, **Shes-The-Proto-Type** (Hmmm, unfortunately, I'm unfamilar with Halo. I just thought 117 was a really amusingly random number x'D Hurhur. Kili. Sigh. Trailer. Barrel escape scene. Prospect of less-clothed, soaking wet Line of Durin. *nosebleed* Just thought I'd share that thought process with you), **DragonOwl** (I'm glad you thought so! :D Thanks), **Wandrian** (Yeeeeeee! *wriggles in delight* This review legit made me so gosh darn slap-happy. Thank you, you beautiful human being, I can't even articulate, I feel honored especially since you were only four chapters in at that point, oh my god you favorited both the story and me, and just EEK~ Hope you enjoyed the rest up to this point!), **SerbiaTakesCtrl** (Oh, thank you! I'm super glad you like the integration - that's the toughest part with the good old female-OC-joins-the-Company track, and I've been a bit apprehensive about it the whole time... And thank goodness you like the dwarves' screentime! I've been trying not to neglect any of the Company, especially those who didn't get an awful lot of actual movie screentime. :D Thanks!), **twilightsun13**, **LuciansLycanNightShade**, **TolkienGirl**, **FormofJane**, **CupofLove**, **Rainnyash**, **Amber** (Hahahaha! Oh wow, I'm glad I inspired such... ...hysterics? x'D Good to hear, 'cause that'll be a loooong way off, I can tell you now :3 By the way, you were the 150th reviewer, so props to you, love! Oh and one more thing, I think we're going to have to call off the engagement...I'm just too hopelessly attracted to Kili. XD Also, dude. Let's just adopt ALL the dwarves and all our problems will be solved. Except for Kili. I'll be busy marrying that one xDDD), and **all the rest of the readers**!

TO BRITLAND! Enjoy :)

**Chapter Twenty-One**

_In Which We Witness A Few Reactions_

~The next night~

"_Thank you for your help_," Eisa remarked in grateful Sindarin to the blonde who had brought her to the correct door. She would know her way around within a day, but for now, she was forced to rely on guides.

"_It was no trouble at all, Miss Eisa_," replied the still slightly baffled elf. "_Are you quite sure you will be all right to return on your own_?" He cast a glance that bordered on disapproving at the door, but the young dwarf woman didn't catch it as she politely insisted that she could make it back to her chambers unassisted later.

It had taken a good deal of convincing, but finally the dwarves had agreed to take rooms of their own after learning late in the previous night that they would be staying in Rivendell for the next two weeks or so. The debate had been heated, to say the least, and it was obvious who had stood on which side of the argument.

Once the elf was gone, and not without a backward glance or two, Eisa knocked on the door. "Fíli? Kíli?" she called hesitantly. "It's me."

There were some vague noises that seemed like an invitation in and sounded quite like Kíli with too much food in his mouth, so she took that as her cue to enter.

"You haven't locked it?" she asked in surprise as she crossed the threshold. When she looked up to see Kíli's reaction, she was instead met with a for all intents and purposes petrified Fíli, his cheeks comically round with an excess of food. "And here I thought it was impolite to speak with one's mouth full," Eisa teased the blonde, who was seated at the small table along the left wall of the bedchamber. "Especially in front of a lady."

He made a few muffled protests—how he was breathing, Eisa did not know—but apparently didn't share his brother's talent for rapidly freeing up his pipes.

Just then, a door to Eisa's right banged open, and said brother came parading in amidst a torrent of steam.

"All right, Brother, I know we agreed we wouldn't use anything of theirs that wasn't absolutely vital, but can we please make an exception in this case, because this bathing tub—" He froze immediately when he realized that the nearest person was not, in fact, his brother. Then he flushed lightly.

Eisa wondered how she didn't set herself and everything within a ten foot radius ablaze with the heat that was emanating from her face, for all that her friend was wearing was a towel slung dangerously low around his hips.

Whatever she was about to say came out as a squeak, but it was masked by Kíli's suddenly very husky voice that stumbled along something to the effect of an apology and a "just a moment."

There were few things that should be genuinely awkward between her and the brothers by now, especially seeing as how they had ended up falling asleep in a drunken heap together the previous night. Eisa was grateful that (she was fairly sure) none of the dwarves had witnessed the incredibly compromising position she had found herself in come morning, wrapped in Kíli's coat with his arm around her, his other arm tangled with his brother on his opposite side. That had been slightly embarrassing. But extremely comfortable.

But potentially very embarrassing.

Fíli had just worked through the food in his mouth. "Well," he declared, and Eisa nervously considered exactly why he was getting that sly glint in one eye as she wondered frantically if her eyes had wandered too much for a moment there. "Good evening to you, too."

She muttered something and might have nodded in a futile attempt to clear her head, but she couldn't articulate quite yet.

A moment later, Kíli reemerged. "Well. Anyway." He coughed unnecessarily. "Did you need something in particular?"

"How quickly you devalue our friendship," Eisa dramatized, glad for a diversion. She flung the back of her hand to her forehead. "Is it not enough to just wish to gaze upon the faces of my two favorite dwarves?"

Fíli muttered something about her having just gazed upon something else, but Kíli missed it in favor of a recollection from the previous night. _"You're my favorite,"_ she had whispered. Had she been serious? True, she wasn't quite herself during that conversation—Mahal, none of them were—but she also seemed to become shamelessly honest when under the influence.

But then he panicked slightly and the thoughts fled his mind, run over by the fact that he was well aware by now that he and his brother were Eisa's first real friends. Ever. He had to be sensitive to that, protect it, protect her. He flung his hands up and stepped towards her without intending to. "N-no! It's just, well, I thought you might need help or something, or have a question, or…" he trailed off as she raised an amused eyebrow, and he realized that she had only been exaggerating. "It made more sense in my head," he declared obstinately.

"Doesn't it always?" Fíli put in dryly.

Kíli changed course to reach to smack his brother upside the head, and was rendered fantastically surprised when Eisa snatched up his own arm right out of the air.

She smirked. "Don't look at me, I'm just trying to keep a lid on the violence. It leads to public disturbance, and that gets ugly."

"I still don't see why we need a lid at all here," he grumbled, the playfulness that had flared up in his eyes at her quick action giving way to disgruntlement. Stepping away from her, he flopped back with a bit of a jump onto the huge bed. When the Company had been shown to their rooms for the first time earlier that day, Fíli and Kíli had merely shrugged at the presence of only one bed. For one thing, they had spent their entire childhood sharing most things and just plain being very close to one another, so Kíli knew how to deal with Fíli's snoring and Fíli knew how to deal with Kíli's occasional violent movements as he dreamed. But regardless, the bed was massive, so it hardly even mattered.

"It's—" Eisa started and stopped rapidly, exhaling calmingly through her nose. She had been about to say 'common courtesy,' but somehow, she felt that that wouldn't go over fantastically.

She could go on about how they themselves had never been personally wronged. She could go on about how you couldn't judge an individual by the actions of those who just happened to be of his or her kin or race. She could go on about bringing a new generation into power and the potential that they held to change the way that interracial exchanges worked. She could go on about the days when relations between the dwarves and the elves were strained but existent at the least, and there was trade and a degree of civility (until they had tried to kill each other…again). She could go on about how she had gotten her own dose of elven culture and it hadn't killed _her_.

She could go on about the subtle but present similarities in some of the values and characteristics of both races: for example, their loyalty and their pride, but of course these very traits prevented them from seeing the other's side, so it was a vicious cycle. She could go on about how the whole damn history between them was a vicious cycle. She could go on about the endless blood of the War of Wrath and the Wars of Beleriand, back when the land of Arda had stretched for leagues and leagues west where today there was only sea.

She could go on about how Ilúvatar, the creator of the elves, had spared the first dwarves from eternal destruction when they had flinched from the hammer that Aulë was about to bring down upon them in light of his betrayal of creating life of his own. She could go on about how the conflict stretched all the way back to the days of the Light of the Trees in Valinor, to the Ainulindalë in reality, and how when it was all boiled down, it was no one's fault really.

But she did not.

She even refrained from swearing aloud (in multiple languages).

Of course, neither of the two males detected much of a disturbance at all.

"Let's just stick with remembering that if someone kills someone else, we're all going to have a very big problem on our hands," was what she finally settled for. Maybe going for the extreme was the path to take.

"What if we hide the body?" asked Fíli with a straight face.

"That skinny one from earlier looked easy enough to take down," suggested Kíli. In his opinion, the elf had been paying far too much attention to getting Eisa to her room and ensuring that she was comfortable. She had been as polite as always, but Kíli could tell that she could have happily fended off his overzealousness had she wanted to. But she would never do something like that.

"They're stronger than they look, actually, but—wait, I mean, I'm not endorsing your picking a fight!" Eisa blustered.

"If there's a reason to start one, then you can bet we will anyway," countered Kíli sourly, and Fíli made a noise of agreement.

"Right, and your definition of a reason…" she trailed off sarcastically. "OOF!" Struck solidly in the stomach by an airborne pillow, she sat down hard on the floor. "You arse!" But she was laughing, mostly because Kíli's reaction to steadily losing an argument had been to lob a _pillow_ at her.

Fíli intercepted her retaliating throw and the two ganged up on her, though they wouldn't hit her nearly as hard as they did each other. Eventually Kíli accidentally thwacked Eisa square in the nose with a down pillow (even though he was technically on her side at the time) and immediately panicked. Eisa made a face and wriggled her nose around a bit, but was fine, and had to physically restrain his hands from fluttering uselessly around her face in agitation while she assured him that it had only tickled a bit.

After a while they all collapsed, thoroughly tuckered out, and the three stayed up talking well into the night, sprawled over the fine rugs of the chamber.

Eisa yawned for the fifth time and made a noise of surprise. "Well, boys, I'd best get back to my own rooms. Don't want to fall asleep here."

"Of course not. Eru forbid you be so improper," Kíli snorted.

"It's not so much that as the odds that, with my luck, your uncle will come by in the morning without warning."

"Whereupon his heart will seize up for sure," Fíli surmised.

"Just before murdering me, yes." Eisa unfolded herself to an upright position and ruffled Kíli's hair lightly from her vantage point. He didn't seem to mind that too much lately, and she saw the tension between his shoulder blades slacken a bit. "Goodnight, you two. Sleep well."

"W-wait a moment." Kíli's self-assurance vanished rapidly. "Will you be—I mean, do you feel alright being alone?" He scrambled to his feet to draw level with her and then some, his brother following suit lazily, like a cat.

"What do you mean?" Eisa frowned slightly. "I know the way back…"

"No, it's just—" Kíli cursed his tongue for not being able to just spit it out. "You know we still don't trust them," meaning the elves, "and, well, you know…circumstances being what they… You're a woman!" he finally blurted out.

Her initial reaction was to retort with a "Yes, I'm aware of that" and tease his real meaning out of him, but then she grasped it and turned a bit red. "Oh. I—all right, here's the thing. Lack of trust and disparities aside, let me tell you a story. A parable, if you will." She rested her hands on her hips and regarded the two of them with somewhat fierce resolution, Fíli looking apprehensive and Kíli with a very odd expression caught between worry and aggression. "Once, there was a dwarf maid traveling on the road who came to a town of Men to stay the night. She paid her fare for a room at an inn, and had gone to sleep when a _very_ foolish Man who had followed her snuck into the room. He had a knife and told her not to scream, but instead she dueled the untrained utter _fool_ with the candelabrum and was halfway to smothering him with the bedsheets when someone finally heard the noise and came to help. When they pulled the dwarf maid off that _very_ foolish Man, he could hardly walk and will likely think twice or thrice about assaulting a maid in her bed again. And since then, the dwarf maid has always slept with a dagger nearby," she finished firmly, crossing her arms.

Fíli flinched convulsively a few times before composing himself. "There. Well. You see, brother? I think she'll remain with her virtue intact just fine."

"Um. Indeed." Kíli shook his head, blushing slightly at the idea, but then his old smile was back. "However, my sense of honor is still insisting that I walk you to your chambers." He held out his arm to her chivalrously.

Eisa sighed heavily but smiled at the gesture. "Whatever makes you happy," she conceded, taking his arm. "'Night, Fíli."

"Goodnight. I am going to bathe," the blonde declared, and shut the door between them.

As soon as they were out of earshot and among the echoes of the stone walkways about them, Kíli asked in a hushed voice, "Did you really almost kill him?"

"You mean, did the maid in the story?" she asked innocently, then chuckled when he made a face at her. "Oh, heavens, I don't know. I was just…very angry." She hadn't mentioned the long list of mostly unmentionable insulting names that she had shrieked at the Man in the process, along with a very colorful string of threats.

"You don't say." They turned a corner. There were candles lit in sconces along the walls, but they were hardly necessary with the clear, bright light of the nearly full moon that filtered through the graceful architecture and vegetation around them.

"Mm. Although help was a little late in coming," she frowned. "It's a good thing I wasn't defenseless. Here it is." She halted at a door similar to Fíli and Kíli's.

"I'd come and help you," Kíli blurted out, still quiet but abrupt in the silence. "I mean, I would be able to hear you, after all. But of course—um, I'll stop talking."

Eisa tried not to blush and failed. "No, that's…very sweet," she whispered back, surprising herself. "Even if it did sound better in your head. I'll let you know if I need help, shall I?" She grinned up at him.

"Of course," he grinned back. "Sleep well."

"You as well." Crossing the threshold and closing the door, she continued to smile fondly. Throwing the deadbolt, she hummed a noise of contentment, and yawned again. She was ever so glad that things were back to simple, wonderful friendship, without any strangeness going on.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **Well, Scotland Yard didn't arrest me either, so I must be good here.

**A/N: **It'sokaythisone'slonger! (dodges airborne torches and pitchforks) Well. (straightens up and brushes off) Even though I didn't see any of you lovely UK-dwellers, it was a pretty sweet trip :D We came back home and basically did this collective groan to the effect of "oh god we're back in America" on so many levels. The weather was lovely (somehow we all got sunburned?!), the Channel was freezing, and I love architecture in countries that aren't, oh, say, less than 300 years old. So! I am back. With a vengeance in the form of a burning need to draw and update.  
The poll is still open! But not for long!  
Oh, also, it was my birthday! :'D I'm a big girl now.  
Scones and marmalade for:** DragonOwl **(Aren't they though?! (squees) I can't even handle the suspense and I'm the one writing it -.-'), **Singer of Water** (Aasdhfglkjf it was so tempting but I just couldn't~ I'll make it good when it does happen x'D ...on purpose, that is. Heh), **AemiKili** (Well, I didn't see you, but hey, I'm a fan of your country xD Also, yes, that image was quite eager to pop into my head as awkwardness ammunition. I wonder why...hurhurhur. Aww thanks, I do love me some sarcasm! Glad I'm getting it across :), **Hiding in the Shadow** (Of course, my dear :) Thank you as always. Yeah, I kind of couldn't focus on much else right around that little segment (fans self) and strangeness shall abound, naturally! :D), **TheCagedBirdie**, **Jess** (I'm going to admit that I did actually tromp around with my cousin at one point, wailing "JEEEEESSSS! HELLOOOOOO!?" It was an experience, I'll leave it at that, but it seems it didn't work xD Aren't they cute though? :3 Oh, there will be SO many incidents. I have three full pages of notes about Upcoming Rivendell Incidents And Plotbunnies :D), **Abyss Prime** (Things do tend to do that around this bunch, don't they? xD), **the Random Oliphaunt** (*FLAILS* ASHD;AJSDHLKF REALLY?! Omg that's wonderful! I'm pretty sure almost no one visits my deviantart, so thanks a load! Oh...facebook? Now that's curious, someone must have a page... Well thanks anyway! And thanks for the fave, dear! :D), **i am a Fire-jay** (*grins like an idiot* Don't you, though? Thanks!), **Shes-The-Proto-Type** (Oh god me too. Ahaha, that I believe we are! Thanks love!), **Shaelalala**, **Elleth Scribe** (Aw, thanks! And I'm totally about to PM you o.O), **Amber** (I think a combination of the two would be appropriate. Think of Fili as the silver lining xD I'd take that any day!), **owlnighteye**, **Fluff loving guest** (Aaahahahaha that may be the best absentee explanation I've heard... Aw thanks, enjoy!), **ShannonsMoustache**, **Yuuko Ichikawa**, **Mad Madi007**,** tangle. of. ivy** (Eek! :D So many reviews, you're wonderful! I absolutely loved the chapter in the river as well, I just thought it would be a good interlude and time for a bit of a different perspective...glad you took from it what I intended :D I love it when people read into things like that! And the dancing, oh my lord I am so with you on that one. Thanks so much~), **DarkStorm00**, and **every reader**!  
Enjoy, everyone!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

_In Which Everyone Runs From One Thing Or Another_

**~The next morning~**

"Has anyone seen Miss Eisa today?" fretted Bilbo, trying not to sound as though he was too worried.

Everyone within earshot looked to Fíli and Kíli by default.

"I thought she was just sleeping, or perhaps exploring." Fíli shrugged, but his brow wrinkled.

"She wakes early, though—and it's not like her to miss two meals," Kíli pointed out, surprising those listening with the attention he seemed to pay, however small.

The Company was about to disperse after another lunch together, preparing for whatever pastimes they were becoming accustomed to in this foreign place, but their newest member had yet to show herself.

"It's alright, Master Baggins, I'll go and make sure she's still breathing," the young dwarf went on jokingly. "And if she's not in her rooms, I'd wager she's off frolicking with a bunch of elves somewhere, happy as can be." He looked around hastily for their uncle, but he was a ways off by now, thank Mahal. "Wait for me, okay, Fee?" he called over his shoulder as he jogged off in the direction of the halls where the dwarves' chambers were.

The deadbolt was locked. Of course; he had heard her shut it when he walked her here the previous night. With a furtive glance about him, he pulled something long and thin from a pocket, and within a few moments the bolt made a satisfying click.

The wooden door swung inwards quietly, and he knocked and kept his eyes down in case of a repeat Bath Incident. When there was no sound or movement, he took a look around the room. It was a close copy of the room he shared with Fíli, save the minor disaster that he and his brother had already managed to turn the chambers into.

For a moment, he was confused as to why the deadbolt would be locked with no one inside the room. One of the pending conditions of their stay here was that the elves wouldn't 'tamper' with the rooms, especially the locks-the dwarves wanted to handle that particularity themselves. It had taken considerable convincing (mostly from Eisa, now that he thought about it) to get Thorin to even accept only basic cleaning services from the elves who managed guest accomodations.

Then he heard a soft sound from the veritable mountain of sheets and blankets that occupied the center of the large double bed. "Still in bed, at this hour?" he muttered with his confusion cleared, and he approached with caution. Her story about the Man and the dagger was still fresh in his mind. "Er. Eisa?" he tried, but the mound didn't shift again. "Hey. Um..." He snapped his fingers above what he assumed to be the general region of her head. "Good morning? Afternoon? Anything?"

Nothing.

"Well then." Kíli leaned against the edge of the elevated bed and crossed his arms. It felt strange without all his usual armor and weapons on, but it was a luxury of having a safe haven, and he intended to enjoy it. "I'm just going to stand here and talk at you until you move. Because I want to make sure you're breathing, at least. I mean—" he could see the covers rising and falling slightly, slow and lazy with sleep— "obviously you are, but you know what I mean. Master Baggins was fretting about you, you know. Fee thought you were probably off exploring, but, well, then we thought—I thought, really—that there was no way you'd pass up the opportunity for food, so here I…"

She had stirred. Kíli clamped his mouth shut automatically, though he couldn't be quite sure why.

Slowly, a hand reached above the covers and extended all its slim digits to their fullest. There was a huge contented sigh and a few small waking-up noises that for some reason made heat rise to Kíli's cheeks, and then both arms stretched out before pushing a large quantity of the covers away. Eisa sat up slowly, her eyes still slitted shut as her lashes stuck together, and she yawned expansively as the billowing covers piled up at her waist, nearly swamping her all over again.

Her long hair was loose and out of its braids, and was one huge mass of loops and minor snarls. She was even wearing proper nightclothes, thin white fabric that was slipping precariously off her right shoulder at the moment and making Kíli's blush deepen inappropriately. Scratch that bit about being proper.

Finally she cracked an eyelid, and Kíli waited, motionless with apprehension. It took a moment, but eventually she noticed the dwarf leaning ever so casually against her bed. She almost jumped, but recovered quickly. "Oh. Good morning," she remarked in surprise.

As the haze cleared from her vision, she was suddenly struck full in the face by how _nice_ Kíli looked. She had seen him only by lamp and moonlight the night before, but with the sun streaming through the large bay window at the southern end of the room, every detail was neatly outlined. His hair was remarkably clean—a richer dark brown than she remembered, like freshly tilled soil—and recently brushed to boot. He also must have washed the blue tunic that he normally wore under his coats, jerkin, and all his equipment, because he was wearing a clean gray one that had thus far survived the journey.

He looked younger, Eisa decided, less travel-worn; but at the same time older, more composed. Perhaps not any less ill-behaved, but that could just be because she knew his nature.

He also appeared to be enjoying a private joke. "Good morning."

Wait. The sun was indeed coming through the southern window. "Er," she said, shifting her eyes away from her friend and past him to said window. "Is it…? That _is_ the south, isn't it?"

Kíli smirked. "It's already afternoon, Your Sleepiness. The day's half gone."

"Oh, bother," she sighed, and tossed the covers the rest of the way off to swing her feet to the floor. It was a bit of a drop—downright unnatural, this massive furniture. "I see you've done your laundry," she commented, noting that his trousers were clean as well. "You've turned another color entirely."

"As have you. Is that yours?" Kíli asked curiously, thoroughly distracted. He had most certainly never seen his friend in a nightgown before, or skirts of any kind for that matter.

"Ah, no." Eisa looked down at herself and fingered the pale material. "It was laid out for me when I got back last night. Nice of them, really. The right size and everything. All my other clothes were either wet or filthy and about to be washed. I only hope they're dry by now," she chuckled. "Would you wait? I won't be but a moment." She disappeared into the washroom when he nodded.

Not even five minutes passed, in which Kíli took to wandering about the room, investigating any and everything as though he were looking for a very small object that was hidden somewhere. Except for Eisa's pack. That he avoided like the plague, which was curious, considering it was a symbol of the only dwarfishness to exist in the entire chamber.

He told himself that he knew she was perfectly safe here; he was just triple-checking, because as Uncle Thorin said, you never knew with elves. And Mister Glóin said never to trust them.

He wasn't being paranoid or overly protective or anything ridiculous like that.

Eisa emerged in a whirlwind, clad in her breeches and green tunic again and tying off her left front braid with one of the tough leather cords that she always used in favor of clamp beads. "Lead me to the nearest edible thing, I beg of you," she implored Kíli as she tugged on her boots.

"I know just the place," he grinned back, trying to appear as though he hadn't been snooping—although, really, he'd been doing nothing wrong. "Can I ask you something that might be too personal?" he said suddenly as they left the chamber. Hardly anything was too personal with the Company by this point, but Eisa was an exception, and there were still a good many things that only she knew about herself.

"It can't be that bad." She smiled encouragingly.

"Why don't you use beads or clasps? Aren't they quicker and easier than those?" He gestured at her braided hair.

"Really?" she chided him lightheartedly. "You should be able to figure out the answer to that." Logic was obviously evading him. "I don't have any. I've never had the chance to smith them, and of course there's been no one to give them to me at my coming of age and so on," she explained simply, without any perceptible strong feelings on the matter.

His face suddenly collapsed and he looked repentant as he realized that he had, again, forgotten that she had never had what he had always taken for granted.

He hadn't forgotten that night around the fire when they had sung the song of their homeland and tears had streamed down the young woman's face.

But she shushed him before he could speak. "Shh. It's fine. You asked, after all. And it's not a huge deal, honest." Kíli still looked skeptical, so she steered the conversation away from herself. "While we're on the subject, where did you and Fíli get your hair clasps? Did Thorin give them to you, by any chance?"

He perked up a bit, grinning sheepishly. "Is it that obvious? Yes. He would have given them to us together as gifts on our coming of age, had we been twins, but he just couldn't make Fíli wait for me to turn thirty. So they were for Yuletide a few years after, instead."

Eisa hummed softly in satisfaction. She knew that Thorin had become a father figure to the boys after their father's death, raising them alongside his sister, Dís. Having recently gleaned more understanding of the almost-king, she was beginning to develop a working theory that Thorin Oakenshield was secretly a big softie, way deep down where his nephews were still only children in his heart.

"Do you mind if I embarrass myself with another personal question for you?" Kíli was asking her. She snorted and gestured for him to continue. "Why the front braids?"

She should have been expecting that, sooner or later. This was more personal, certainly, for she was not out of touch with her culture. Dwarf braids themselves were generally symbols of status or occupation, but the exact style and placement were usually left to personal expression and necessity. There were a few techniques that were accepted to be indicative of certain things, however, and the two braids trailing from in front of Eisa's ears were one such indication. Like the thin braids that Thorin and Fíli wore in the same places, they spoke of inheritance, though not necessarily through descent or royalty.

Which was ironic, since Eisa didn't even know her own origins.

"Oh, yes, that," she chuckled. "That was probably a bit confusing for you all once you realized I have no family. I don't agonize over it like I used to, but I like to think that someday I'll be able to make a claim to _some_thing."

"That's…a good way to look at it."

When Eisa took a sidelong glance at her friend, he had that sad look of concentration back on his face that he seemed to gain whenever she spoke about her past. "Hey." She tapped him under the chin and he jerked his head upright in surprise. "There's no reason to look so down. It's just a bit of a private joke, really. You see?"

Once he had watched her carefully for a few solid seconds, Kíli determined that there was truly nothing to worry about. Not at the moment, at least. He chuckled quietly. "Oh, I see. You little sneak." And he was proud. Proud of her for moving past the hardships of the situation she was born into, and for being as successful as she could under the circumstances.

Eisa grinned, without any of the telltale underlying grief. "I try."

"I just can't imagine…" Oh. He hadn't meant to actually say out loud that he couldn't imagine growing up without a family. Loyalty was everything to dwarves, and without that familial and homeland pride, they were nothing.

But she was definitely not nothing. She wasn't even just something; she was...everything. Everything, all at once. That was the only way he could think of to explain it.

"I mean, I suppose those are just out of necessity, then," he self-corrected quickly, gesturing to the sides of his head to indicate her second set of braids. The style made it clear to knowledgeable strangers that whatever line of work she was in, she needed her vision clear and her distracting locks out of her way. In this case, she was prepared to face the unexpected.

She nodded. "Naturally. Can I…ask why—"

Kíli knew what was coming, and began to shake his head. He pointed towards the courtyard where the majority of the Company was still lingering around the table. "Can we continue this later? It's not that I don't want to answer, just…it'll take a bit, and…" He had a pleading look in his eyes.

Eisa understood. They had stepped into emotionally and culturally private territory, and while there were no elves present, Thorin was. Even if he had had her voted into the Company, her being up close and personal with his nephews was still a dodgy subject, and several members of the Company felt the same way. Eisa was beginning to notice that Kíli would only speak completely freely with her if others present consisted only of his brother, or occasionally Ori or Bofur. She didn't begrudge him for it, since she knew the reason, so she could only assure him with her eyes that she understood and change the topic. "What do you suppose everyone will do today?"

He shrugged gratefully. "Same as yesterday, most likely. Though I'm itching to shoot at something."

She glared. "No. Live. Targets."

He scoffed. "You think so little of me."

"No, I think you would act on an impulse and no one would think to discourage you."

"Eat," he ordered as she sat.

"You needn't tell me twice. How convenient, though, seeing's how _I _don't speak with my mouth full."

Kíli spluttered as his brother came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Are you being bullied, Brother?" Fíli teased.

Eisa had ingested half of a salad remarkably fast. "Only so long as I can speak." She smiled impishly.

Kíli swore filthily in defeat as Ori approached timidly to slide into a chair next to Eisa. "Did you sleep well, Miss Eisa?"

"I did indeed, Master Ori. If for entirely too long. I suppose I needed it," she shrugged. "Although—" she froze abruptly, then stuttered a bit. "I…did have some rather peculiar dreams."

Kíli's eyes widened suddenly just before he spewed a laugh, and Fíli somehow managed to keep a straight face as he said, "Really? Fascinating."

"What sort of peculiar?" asked Ori innocently, with a touch of concern.

"The creepy kind?" added Kíli.

"Or the fun kind?" Fíli grinned suggestively.

"The…" Eisa trailed off, slow to come back to her senses after the lightning strike of recollection. "Oh, for—really—" she sputtered.

"I think we got our answer, Brother." Kíli mirrored Fíli's positively lecherous expression.

She narrowed her eyes at the two before turning suddenly to Ori. "Now Ori. Let me tell you a story. A parable, if you will, about a pair of very foolish—"

In an instant, Kíli was at her side and Fíli at her back with his hands on her shoulders.

"Er, Eisa, let's not get too carried away, now. Dreams are really nonsense after all, aren't they?" The brunette took her hand in both of his, and while it was probably supposed to be a calming gesture, it looked more like he was trying to ensure that she didn't cause him bodily harm without warning.

"Right, right—and we don't want to scare Ori here, now do we?" The blonde nodded in agreement with himself as Ori began to stammer.

"Of course not." The dwarf maid smiled with terrifying serenity. "You know, I'm not sure I even remember what they were about. Just a bit about…cooking…well, never mind. Carry on, boys." And she went back to consuming the majority of a basket of luxurious leavened bread.

Ori shot Fíli a questioning look, having hung on his every word as usual, but Fíli shook his head in warning, his blue eyes wide.

"So what _shall_ we do?" Eisa asked once she had finished. Her friends hardly blinked at the quantity of food that she consumed, already having witnessed how she could hold her own in term of both food and drink.

"I've got to find something to shoot at," Kíli declared.

"Some_thing_, not some_one_, am I right?" Eisa arched an eyebrow.

Why of course," he beamed innocently.

"Gotcha!" someone shouted, whacking Fíli on the back so that he yelped and nearly toppled into his brother.

"Oi!" he bellowed.

"Tig, you're it!" hollered Nori's three-pointed retreating figure.

And thus began quite the game.

Fíli roared a laugh and went after him, having absolutely no idea what was going on, until someone else pointed out—from a considerable distance—that according to the rules of the game he could chase anyone he wanted. Gradually the majority of the Company caught on, and that was how Bilbo Baggins came to regret thoughtlessly introducing the dwarves to the game of tig.

This was a very serious business for them. Once they had all gotten the hang of the game, it (shockingly) became a sort of mad competition. The fields, terraces, and training yards provided sufficient space for their shenanigans, and it quickly became clear who the easy targets were. Bombur spent most of the time attempting to look very small and hide, and Fíli and Kíli were immensely enjoying the gift of their swift legs. As poor Ori was the first to learn, being chased by Dwalin was just flat-out terrifying. (The warrior had joined only because it was a form of physical activity and it basically allowed him to hunt people down.)

However, the scribe was spared when Dwalin discovered that Eisa was suddenly paying very little attention to the game. She had opted out for the first few minutes, sitting on a rock wall with Bilbo and listening to him reminisce about his childhood. Together they lamented the sheer energy of the Company and how something was certainly going to be broken by the end of all this, but eventually the maid was just short of beginning to twitch with that same pent-up energy and so she joined the game. There was, after all, no denying the boundless dwarfishness in her blood.

No one ran after her for a while, and she grudgingly concluded that this was because she was a female. Just as she absently became distracted by a bird, Dwalin apparently made the executive decision to hang expectations.

Her only warning was Kíli's yelp, at which point she turned and saw something the size of a tree charging her. Yelling in surprise, she instinctively dove to the side, but the warrior's armspan was massive and he caught her shoulder on the way. She rolled to her feet, feeling rather indignant, and while a few of the dwarves jokingly berated Dwalin for his choice of target, most were just laughing. It was friendly, she knew, but she took it as a provocation.

"Oh yeah? I'll teach you to laugh!" she shouted, grinning, as she set her course for Fíli, who was laughing the hardest next to Bofur (the latter was practically incapacitated by his cackles, so that would hardly be fair). She accelerated into a sprint. "Bring it on, dwarf boy!"

He swore and started running once he realized just how fast she was coming at him across the grass. Kíli laughed as he wisely stepped aside, just out of range, and his hair streamed forward for a second in the draft Eisa created. He called after them, alternating between teasing and encouraging.

In a moment she had caught the blonde, and pranced away cackling as Fíli looked at her in admiration before taking off after some poor soul.

"Impressive," murmured Balin to his king as they watched from a safe distance.

Thorin grunted and gave a small nod.

When she later outstripped and evaded Kíli, and then Dwalin in order to regain her dignity, Thorin stated in surprise: "She is the fastest among us."

His friend cast him a sidelong glance as if to remind him that he was discounting himself, but the king shook his head. "Your brother and I are evenly matched, more or less. I see that I could not outrun her. And no, I shall not try," he added dryly as Balin continued to look at him.

The old dwarf smiled and turned back to the Company. Even the older ones had joined in, and—oh dear—the Burglar was edging into the fray, despite looking as though he was regretting every step.

Thorin tensed at this new development. "Oh, no."

"Yes?" Balin prompted simply.

"We are going to be short a Burglar again."

"Why's that?"

"He is going to get himself killed." Thorin's left eye twitched minutely as Bilbo and several others fled the charging Dori in a panic.

"It's a good thing we have a spare, then."

"A what?"

"A spare." Thorin was being exceptionally slow today, and Balin became increasingly smug as he waited patiently. "The young lady."

"Oh. Oh, yes. Her. Eisa, of course. A spare?" the king muttered, almost to himself. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

Of course he hadn't. Balin shook his head minutely, smiling secretively. Of course he hadn't.

Fíli and Kíli, meanwhile, were catching their breaths for a moment while concealed in a grove of trees.

"She's so fast!" Fíli panted, half annoyed and half impressed.

"She's _terrifying_." Kíli crouched lower down. When Eisa ran—really ran—she moved even more precisely and sharply than usual, less like a dwarf and more like an elf or a Man. She compacted her body and yet stretched out at the same time, like one of Kíli's arrows on the fly, but what made it scary was her focus. Her eyes were the arrowhead, picking out her target and taking the most direct route to reach her goal.

Kíli would not want that target to be him, especially in the light of anger.

"I mean," he fumbled, "well, she's amazing. It's just…"

"Mahal forbid she get really angry at one of us," Fíli chuckled.

"Exactly." That made him feel proud, in an odd sort of way.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **Oh, sure, the cops confiscate the potato launcher. But the fanbase violations blatantly plastered across the Interwebs, noooo...

**A/N: **That last chapter had so many views that I didn't even know what to do with my excess happiness ;D So the irony is that I leave you all hanging while work picks up, but on my twelve-hour workday I finally get the sheer mad willpower to update -.-' Editing this chapter brought me some happiness during my breaks from running around the burning lobby or the almost literally burning kitchen, catering to the hospitality needs of rich people with air-conditioned rooms and too much time on their hands who complain about the heat while the entire staff is literally dripping sweat in their all-black uniforms (whose bright idea was that again?) and occasionally passing out because we don't have a minute to spare to stop and breathe and take care of our hydration. Also, apparently when you don't get good table service, the excuse that your waitress is currently unconscious in the back and we're already understaffed isn't valid.

Good god, you people brighten my day.

So many thanks to: **tangle. of. ivy** (N'awww, don't you though? I just want to adopt all of them x3 Glad I bring you happiness ^^), **Hiding in the Shadow** (Hurhurhur. They may have a bit yet to learn about her indeed xD But the thickheadedness can just be so cute sometimes :P Thanks dear), **Singer of Water** (Hahaha. If I'm not mistaken, tig is like the old English version of tag? I kind of pulled that from some weird half-forgotten dusty corner of my brain, and I figured it would work since the Shire is basically old rural England, haha! Thanks~), **IceheartsChill** (Haaaaahahahahaha, I NEVER get tired of people's reactions to that chapter x"D), **Amber/Grace?** xD (You may want to either get that checked out or teach a get-your-authoress-to-do-a-fantastic-series-of-eye twitches-followed-by-hysterical-laughter seminar. x'D Hurhurhur, IT'S A SEEEEECRET~ And by that I mean even I don't know what I want to do with it ¬_¬ shifty eyes... Thank you for the birthday wishes, anyhow! :D It was a big one :3 so thanks. Consider this my present to you in return :D), **the Random Oliphaunt** (Wait wait! I totally saw that video commentary! :'D Tsk, those hobbits...so silly xD Thanks dear, hahahaha I'll take a dwarven choir any day!), **AemiKili** (Thank you dear! :3 Aww good, I'm glad you liked the hair bit. It comes in again in this chapter, heh. Oh my gosh, that might be my favorite little side convo that I've written, ever. I'm super glad you enjoyed it as much as I did giggling to myself while I wrote it ¬.¬ Hehehehe), **Abyss Prime** (Thanks! It was too good to resist :'D), **Jess** (Ooh, sounds nice :D I've decided I want to backpack New Zealand, and when I do, I don't care about the extra weight, I AM bringing an old school boombox and blasting the Rohan and Gondor themes, etc., while trekking through the mountains. Haaahaha I've totally done that when my views or review count skyrocket... Eek, me neither! 8D hehe), **Fluff-Loving Guest** (Hehe, well I'm going to be terrible and throw teasers in there every once in a while xD It's killing me too, don't worry!), **Beloved Daughter** (Glad to see you here! :D Thank you very much! Hah, I am too x'D Seriously though, I'm still tossing ideas around about what I want to do about her true story...), **m9o2i** (Thaaaaaaank yoooooouuu :DDD), **DragonOwl** (Hahaha, yay! Ooh I love details :3 I'm sure you couldn't tell~), **Fellowship of Avengers** (ALRIGHT HOLY VALAR YOU GET A GIGANTIC FREAKING CONFETTI EXPLOSION OF AWESOMENESS. I seriously can't believe you just started reading and went and reviewed every single chapter! I'll admit that I don't even do that! It was like little bursts of happiness every half hour for like my entire afternoon!~ I can't even thank you enough :3 Just a couple words is all I need sometimes. Enjoy the chapter!), **hannabeast1**, **Alexandria Moon**, **jess114**, **Iamnotcrying**, **ShadeKitteh301**, **sentarstage**, **twilightsun13**, **LovingBOBThePacific**, **Krosis**, **TyraDawn**, **photogirl894**, **the black kitty**, **GlidingOne**, **Lula182**, **Najmin**, **Hope's Survival**, **mwilson6074**, **Yizu**, **xFabieenne**, **Syria13**, **SunshineSketch**, and **all the other readers** out there!

This chapter is dedicated to **Fellowship of Avengers**, who not only happened to be the 200th reviewer (goes and squees in the corner for a moment) BUT reviewed every single freaking chapter as she (she? yes?) read the entire freaking story, which I totally never think to do and it was just lovely. Props to you, dear! :D

Enjoy, all! :)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

_In Which There Are A Few Misunderstandings_

"All right, be honest with me now—" Eisa's voice echoed out of her washroom to reach Fíli and Kíli, who had come to fetch her for supper— "how enthusiastically do you think Thorin would try to kill me?"

The brothers shot each other a half-confused, half-alarmed look.

"I mean, maybe the question is how violent he'd be likely to get," she went on, and they heard something clatter to the floor. "Drat it."

"Why?" Kíli asked tentatively before Fíli picked up the slack.

"Are you planning on pulling another linguistic trick at supper or something?" the blonde wondered. The Company had been mostly fending for themselves in terms of meals for the past two days, or at least agreeing to the unspoken terms that they would eat what was provided for them in their own time. However, tonight they had been summoned back to Lord Elrond's table, probably just to verify that everyone was keeping everything nice and polite. It was a diplomatic move, which Eisa could appreciate; she was just having a minor personal crisis.

Actually, it could become a major public crisis quite readily, if it went ill and was blown enough out of proportion.

"Oh, well, that depends on what happens—we'll see, I suppose—and this whole thing tonight is just to keep a face up, I'm telling you. If—argh—if there are any problems, for example, I'll need to diffuse them," she stated matter-of-factly. "But it's still tricky. Which brings me back to my original question—" The door finally opened and Fíli and Kíli shifted their footing expectantly, arms crossed identically. "How much will Thorin kill me?"

Fíli eyebrows went up and Kíli's jaw went momentarily down before he got himself back in check.

The dress was forest green, a darker shade of the shirt she normally wore. It fit her neatly from shoulder to hip, where it lengthened out into a long skirt that reached her ankles. The dress' neckline stretched all the way to the ends of her collarbones, but maintained a modest enough cut to be appropriate, and the long sleeves were slit down the sides and fell elegantly. She was, naturally, still wearing her traveling boots, cleaned and brushed up considerably since they had arrived in Rivendell. Her hair was braided as it always was, if cleaner and more neatly aligned than on the road.

The overall effect was fairly simple, and yet she looked anything but.

_You look beautiful_. Kíli couldn't move.

"Wow," Fíli stated appreciatively. "You look nice. Remind me why our uncle is feeling the need to kill you at this point?" His brother was incapacitated, and he knew it.

"Well, this sure isn't mine!" Eisa scoffed, flapping her hands at the skirts. "I'm here accepting help from the enemy. Actually being cooperative and social and polite, never mind all that nonsense he makes up in his head. No offense," she added, wincing.

Fíli groaned quietly. "None taken, believe you me. I, ah, I see a flaw, however."

"And what's that?"

"How does he know about the contents of your personal wardrobe?"

Kíli finally seemed to come halfway back to his senses. "Yeah—if he—that wouldn't make sense." The other half of said senses didn't look promising.

Eisa exhaled. "He'll recognize the style and tailoring, obviously. Anyone should; it's completely different from... That is, well, you'd never met elves before, so that's alright, but you know what I mean. Besides, it wouldn't make sense for me to cart around something nice like this, would it?"

"No," the brothers agreed, although Kíli's response was slightly delayed.

_No, but you look so beautiful_. The thought rose unbidden again in the younger brother's mind.

"And we're back to where we started," Eisa sighed agitatedly. "Will Thorin understand, or will he—" Thankfully, the phrase 'disembowel me' faded on her tongue as someone suddenly came around the corner outside her room and knocked on the frame of the open door. The gesture was unnecessary, but polite.

"Miss Eisa, I've brought the—" The elf stopped himself as well, catching his wits again and nodding to the two additional dwarves before looking to Eisa for permission to enter. He had straight light brown hair and carried a pile of white linens in his arms.

"Oh, excellent, I'd nearly forgotten. Come in, Findren."

The youth—for he was obviously quite young for an elf—ducked his head and stepped into the room, carefully avoiding eye contact with Fíli and Kíli, although it seemed to be more out of timidity than snobbishness.

"Thank you ever so much." Eisa looked to her two friends and said with a roll of her eyes, "I was so clumsy. Spilled a bottle of ink all over the bedsheets earlier; don't ask how. Here, you can just leave them on the bed. I can tend to it later." She waved an encouraging hand at the elf as Fíli and Kíli, unnoticed, pulled their shoulders back and shifted slightly at the familiarity.

"Not at all, Miss, I can take care of it while you're at supper." The attendant had his back turned as he sorted through the piles of fresh-smelling laundry. "Oh, and speaking of which, did you want me to help braid your hair for you…?" He trailed off as he glanced back over his shoulder, then smiled and returned to his work. "But I see you've already done it. Enjoy supper, then."

Eisa nearly missed his parting words and struggled for a half second over how she was supposed to respond, since she was suddenly very otherwise occupied. She hadn't been anticipating the attendant's offhand remark, but she had gotten in front of Fíli and Kíli fast enough to plant her hands on each of their chests and physically keep them back as they suddenly surged forward. Their arms had come uncrossed and their eyes were burning, and Kíli's strong hands had curled into fists. "Thank you, Findren. Good evening!" With that, she practically hauled her friends out the door by their shirtfronts and hoped her voice hadn't come out too strained.

Once they were out of range, she exhaled violently and grabbed an arm each, partially just to walk with them but mostly for the leverage to restrain them. "And that was a _perfect_ example of cultural misunderstandings!" she hissed over their muted blustering, which got them to stop for a moment.

"It isn't as big of a deal for them as it is for us," she explained hurriedly, squeezing their arms imploringly. Their thick and very capable arms that could cause some damage if provoked. "A lot of them change their hairstyles almost daily, and it's only a sign of friendliness if you offer your help. It's like sitting around and—oh, Mahal—sharing a whetstone, or something. It's casual and companionable."

Kíli's shoulders loosened a bit and Fíli started breathing normally again. It was actually very touching that they had flared up like they had in defense of her honor, or however they had chosen to take the elf's words.

The reason was that a dwarf ordinarily braided his or her own hair, and only family or shieldbrethren were permitted to do so for each other. Any deviation was a display of something rather significant in one way or another. Between unmarried youths, it was taken as a sign of courtship, and so on, unless it was verbally established in no uncertain terms to all present that the action was platonic. And out of the blue like that, it was a step way over the line of propriety, even to the most liberal of dwarves.

Still, Kíli stubbornly grumbled something, and Eisa screwed up her nose in response to what she was pretty sure was a threat mixed with lingering dissent and the justification for such a threat. "He didn't mean any harm. They're all really very helpful if you're just polite to them," she retorted sternly.

"You're also—" Kíli blurted, but then stopped himself. His brother peered over at him in curiosity, and he recovered hastily. "I mean, you know a lot about them. Mahal save us, you even speak their language!"

"Not well," Eisa corrected him automatically.

"I beg to differ," Fíli put in, finally speaking up.

"Regardless—"

"Point is, I think they may have taken to you a tad easier than to us," Kíli took over.

"That's…all right, so that might be true," grudged Eisa. "Stop using that as a shield, though. Look, for example: you do realize that they're going into your chambers, same as mine, even when you make a point of locking the door?"

The two shared a fairly horrified look over her braided head (it ended up going more around her, since she and Fíli were about the same height).

"But, they—"

"And how would—"

"See, there's this thing called a key," Eisa interrupted them sarcastically, her brows still drawn together darkly as she maintained her vice-like grip on the crooks of their arms. "And keys ordinarily have copies." She glared at them both out of the corners of her eyes when they huffed simultaneously, affronted. "Would you be getting all hot and bothered if the innkeeper let himself in to collect the washing or tidy up while you were out? No, I didn't think so. It's the same thing, and if you act otherwise it'll only make things worse, because then they'll have a reason to think that you have something to hide!"

The princes' expressions froze.

"Oh," muttered Kíli.

"It's defensive diplomacy," Eisa rambled on, "that's it. Which you're about to see plenty of in the next hour or so." She took a deep breath as the trio reached the courtyard where the Company had been invited to dine on their first night in the city. "As I try to prevent your uncle from murdering me."

Just then, Bofur clapped eyes on the almost-latecomers. "Well, what do you know," he chortled. "The lass is a proper lady after all!"

A particularly humorous memory involving a corset came to Eisa's mind, and she released her friends' arms to give a theatrical but surprisingly well-executed curtsy. "At your service," she added teasingly. As soon as no one else was looking, she promptly stuck her tongue out childishly at the hat-wearing dwarf.

Fíli suddenly sighed and gestured for his brother's attention. "This will sure be fun. I love formalities." It was the one thing that really brought him down about being royalty, despite the fact that he was good at exchanging small talk and making acquaintances.

A quick scan up and down the table had Eisa catching on as quickly as the blonde. A single long table was set up, and Lord Elrond was already seated at the head with Thorin at his right hand. (A show of good graces, to be sure, but Eisa would be reluctant to put any coppers on a bet that the dwarf wouldn't just up and stab the elf after all.) A hierarchy had been set up from Thorin down, with two telltale spaces left for the princes. Dwalin and Balin were next, and so on, until Bilbo at the far end and the empty chair across from him.

The icing on the ill-fated cake was that Gandalf was absent and his role as mediator left vacant.

"You're joking," Kíli muttered back, and he found himself about to reach for Eisa's arm again, perhaps for moral support. Or just confirmation that he did in fact have to sit through this. Even for emergency translations—at this point, he'd take anything.

He could still feel the print of her hand singeing through his tunic and into his chest.

Eisa schooled her impending grimace into a smile and nudged the two forward slightly by their shoulders. "Unfortunately, no. Now, for Aulë's sake, think before you speak. I'll catch up with you two afterwards."

They all but whimpered from behind forced smiles, but held themselves as proudly as ever as they approached the disaster waiting to happen. Eisa looked past them to Thorin on the way to her seat, and nodded in acknowledgment. She knew he had been watching her a moment ago, and whatever his ever so slight answering nod meant, she accepted it gladly.

"You look very nice," said Bilbo politely as Eisa took her seat.

"Thank you, Bilbo." She smiled lightly. "I think this Company cleans up fairly well after all," she joked, making another face at Bofur, who was at Bilbo's side.

The hobbit smiled shyly, and Ori, next to Eisa, covered a giggle of his own. "That's a pretty thing," Bilbo commented, tilting his head to the side and pointing to Eisa's collarbone.

Normally the necklace that she wore every second of every day wasn't visible, but without all her usual garments on, it was obvious. The little disk, about the size of a silver piece and not dissimilar to one, rested just above her cleavage, which was incidentally about where the neckline of the dress lay. It also kept its shine quite well, the silver that was rimmed in a thin gold band having a tendency to throw the light attractively.

"Oh—yes, of course. Thank you." She had nearly forgotten about it, since it was almost always out of sight.

Ori, meanwhile, contemplated the chances of Eisa becoming either violent or violently embarrassed if he decided to sketch her, and concluded that she would never have the chance to look in his massive but secret journal anyway. So there was no real danger.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _The Hobbit_, but I sure as heck own the wicked tip money I earned today! xD

**A/N: ***wails* I'm sorry this took longer! For some reason I've gone into a weird phase of writer's block and it's killing me trying to even concentrate for the amount of time needed to edit a chapter. *bangs head against wall* It might have something to do with my 45-hour work week and seriously missing my bff, but bleh. Life. I'll be doing my best to keep the writing coming. Anyhoo, technology has continued its endless crusade against me, so it's ix-nay on the review replies this time around -.-' I beg of you, do not ask. BUT I appreciate each and every reader, follower, favoriter, and reviewer, so here's to all of you: **StabMeWithASmile**, **meredithe**, **InspiritDW**, **colormenikki**, **I Am The Wind**, **Emmiline-Zahara-Rose**, **Hksmith**, **an old fashioned girl**, **TheShawndaLee**, **amdragjakelong'sgurl**, **RelapseWarrior**, **DwarvenWarrior**, **Sbgchan**, **AemiKili**, **Amber**, **the Random Oliphaunt**, **Fellowship of Avengers**, **Hiding in the Shadow**, **Abyss Prime**, **DragonOwl**, **Singer of Water**, **Jess**, **Fluff-Loving Guest**, **Guest**, **Ox King**, **Pinkdude3000**, **MissKatieJayne, Sonnenelch,** and all those faithful but unnamed! :) By the way, your reviews were all very flattering; I can't thank you enough for your praise! *hugs*  
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Enjoy, all! ;)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

_In Which We Just Plain Learn A Lot_

"I don't know whether I should be relieved or nervous that everyone's limbs are still intact," Eisa murmured into Kíli's ear practically as soon as the Company stood up from the table in response to Elrond and Thorin rising to leave. Unfortunately, her eavesdropping skills did not extend all the way down a table full of dwarves at mealtime.

"It went surprisingly well—I think," he admitted as Fíli drew closer to the two of them.

"No one went for their weapons," the blonde pointed out.

"Or did any outright name-calling."

"There was some passive aggression—"

"—but really, what would you expect?"

"It seemed more like a test to me," Fíli perceived.

Eisa tilted her head from side to side. "That makes sense. How did the conversation go, mostly?"

They gossiped like this all the way to the courtyard that the dwarves had annexed from the start and had been frequenting since, gathering every night as they would on the road before retiring to their bedchambers as late as possible. Like clockwork, Óin and Glóin got a small bonfire going. Everyone else took a seat on several long benches that they had purposely left intact. Eisa wondered if the elves had wondered where the extra furniture had gone, and if so, if they had made the connection to the nightly fires.

"I have to ask you, since it's so pretty—" Bilbo took another gulp of ale, which as it turned out, he could be quite fond of— "where did you get that necklace?"

"Probably from a lord of some distant kingdom," Nori chuckled quietly.

"Or a market in a city no one's heard of," added Fíli with a grin and a wrinkle of his nose.

"Aye, that's our Eisa, the traveler," Bofur grinned, tapping the ashes off his pipe.

The possessive 'our' warmed Eisa more than the fire ever could have, and it took a moment for her to stop smiling like an idiot as she held her palms up for calm. About half of the Company was in on the conversation.

"I haven't a clue where it's from, really." She paused as the others stopped to wonder if she was just teasing them with a mind-puzzle. "I've had it with me since I was born. It's never tarnished or anything, strangest thing…" They all knew she was rambling for a reason, and she made herself breathe, trying not to grip her knees too tightly where she sat on the bench. "My mother gave it to the wife of the man who owned the inn where I was born. She told her to tell me two things: to always keep it, and to never forget." She snorted through her nose and smiled faintly, glancing up at those who were watching her. Kíli and Fíli leaned into her slightly from either side. "Which is a bit silly really, since I don't know…well. Anyhow."

"Who raised you?" The gentle question came from Kíli, by her left ear.

"The wife—her name was Mhoire—and the cook, Greta. They were both humans. They did well, too—taught me my letters and all, taught me how to do an honest day's work. Although I learned things like how to ride and fight from the stable boys." She chuckled lightly and Ori took this as a sign that it was alright to delve a bit further.

"And…when did you leave?" he asked softly, from the other side of Fíli.

"I was twenty-eight," came the precise reply.

Bofur's eyebrows shot up. "That's a brave thing, lass. With you not even of age."

Eisa shrugged. "Well, even if I had known so, it probably wouldn't have stopped me. I didn't tell anyone, you see. Just left a…a very long note in the kitchen, in the middle of the night."

There was silence for a moment.

"Sometime I'll tell you about my first year on my own, but that's a bit complex for right now," she half-joked with a mind to get everyone back to normal.

"A few hitches, were there?" Fíli smiled amenably from her right.

"Just a few, just a few."

"Not to pry again, lass, but what did you say your mother's name was?"

Eisa couldn't remember whether she had ever told Bofur before, but she didn't mind either way. "Auda. I don't suppose you recognize the name?" It was dubious whether she sounded more careless or hopeful; it was an odd combination of the two.

"No, none of us here remember anyone called by that name." Bofur looked apologetic, but Eisa shook her head. "May I see that for a moment?" He gestured to her necklace as Bilbo had during supper.

"Oh, of course." She reached around and unfastened the clasp, then handed the piece of jewelry to the miner.

He held it carefully, peered at it, turned it over, then drew back almost immediately, his brown eyes widening. "Heavens, lass," he chuckled somewhat nervously, "careful what you go handin' people!"

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" Unnoticed by most, Balin had suddenly taken a sharp interest in the conversation, and he raised his bushy eyebrows as well.

"Well, for one, I wouldn't go passing my mithril around if I had any, which I don't, and for another—"

"It's _what_?" blurted Eisa in confusion, voicing the thoughts of those around her. "I mean—truly?"

"Er, yes…" the miner went on slowly. "You didn't know?"

"Hadn't the faintest clue. You forget that I haven't the knowledge to recognize it."

There was a hushed chorus of comprehension and some uncomfortable shifting.

"Ah. You're right, lass, I should've remembered." Bofur smiled easily from underneath his hat, but there was a slight twinge at the corners. "But secondly, you shouldn't go handing your name around like that, either. That you should've picked up by now, but, well, you're a tough one sometimes, lass—"

Eisa held up her hands and waved them exasperatedly. "My _what?_ Nienna so help me, you're a dear, Bofur, but I'm going to go mad. What 'name' do you mean?"

"Well, when your name, your true inner-name," he explained patiently, "is written—or in this case carved—on something, you don't let other people see it. It's private, you see?"

"No, I—I know that." The crease between her eyebrows deepened, giving her the angry expression that she got when something persisted in baffling her. "But for one thing, I don't have an inner-name, and for another, that's just a load of gibberish carved on there. It makes no sense phonetically."

"Well, no, you learned the language secondhand, so the sound of a heart-name shouldn't make much actual sense to you, but—" Fíli broke in to lend Bofur a hand, but stopped as abruptly as if he had been struck.

Kíli picked up where his brother's thought process had been sharply rerouted. "You…what do you mean, you don't have a heart-name?" he asked rhetorically in a hushed voice.

Every member of the Company was now watching the exchange revolving around Eisa. Ori looked like he was about to cry. Bofur's countenance had dropped the goofy exterior that he kept up in all but the direst of circumstances. Glóin and Óin exchanged an unreadable look after Glóin had paraphrased the past few minutes for his elder brother. Thorin appeared as impassive as ever, but was playing an internal game of tug-of-war between sympathy and scorn.

But Eisa could only focus on one person or idea at a time in her state of bewilderment, and right now, she only had eyes for Kíli. His eyes were as big and brown as ever, but he looked heartbroken as he realized what she was saying.

"But you do have one, lass," Bofur broke in gently.

Eisa looked up and refocused, Kíli's heart-wrenching expression pinching at her eyes and throat, and found herself looking to Balin for confirmation.

"The dwarf knows his metals." The old advisor nodded and pressed his lips together. "And anyone—raised as one of us—recognizes an inner-name when they see one."

"I didn't read it," Bofur put in hurriedly. "A glance is all you need, really, to recognize one—but you, you ought to know it. Oh—here." Remembering that he was still holding the bright little disk in his palm, he handed it back to the young woman by the chain. She immediately flipped it to the proper side and took another good hard look at the runes carved along the bottom of the curve.

"Just sound it out," Fíli murmured encouragingly, making a point not to watch what she was doing. "Though not out loud. Run through it a few times in your head and it'll start to make more sense."

"I…okay."

Khuzdul lettering followed the same basic one-character-one-sound format as Westron, and spelling the word—the name—out in the common tongue was easy enough. It spelled R-I-D-R-Á-I-N-L-E-I-F, and the emphasis would go on the second syllable. Pronouncing it under her breath was easy enough, but it didn't feel like a name—_her_ name—without knowing the meaning. Eisa knew enough about heart-names to know that they were made up of several components, each meaning something different that didn't necessarily correspond directly to spoken Khuzdul.

And they always, _always_ meant something extremely significant.

Fortunately, it wouldn't be difficult to hunt down the individual meanings with a library as extensive as Elrond's. Spoken and written Khuzdul might be Middle Earth's best-kept linguistic secret, but with the right textual references and perhaps some covert help from Gandalf, she could put her inner-name together in a matter of minutes. She could visit the library tonight, once everyone began to retire to their rooms. It seemed very close and yet very far away as she considered how quickly she had found this all out.

However, her revelations for the day weren't finished.

"Erm."

The Company looked up expectantly at Eisa, who had half-raised a hand.

"I…correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't mithril found only in Khazad-Dûm?"

Thorin might have been royalty, but Bofur was the mining expert of the group, and it was he who answered. "Aye, that's right, lass. That's what makes the kingdom so valuable, apart from being the first home of Dúrin and our ancestors an' that."

The gears of Eisa's mind were spinning in an entirely unexpected direction, and began to fit together in an impossible way. "Dúrin's Bane was awakened, what, about a millennium ago? What have the dwarven trade routes been like since then—fairly closed after the mass exodus to Erebor, weren't they?"

This time, Balin nodded. "Those were dark days, during the flight to the Lonely Mountain, until it began to prosper in full. In terms of mithril—of course it was closely guarded. There was very little chance we would return to our ancient home, so no matter the riches there, it became a finite resource."

Eisa half-opened her mouth and then closed it, swallowing hard.

Conveniently (or perhaps not) Fíli was right there with her train of thought and was the one to voice it aloud. "You're a Longbeard," he blurted suddenly, surprising even himself, but held his own when everyone whipped their heads around to stare at him with varying degrees of comprehension.

_Isn't that ironic,_ was her only thought that wasn't caught up in an odd jumble with other things.

"Your mother was a dwarf of Erebor," Fíli went on, now watching Eisa in wonderment. All she could do was stare back as he fleshed out her string of conclusions aloud. "Mithril trade virtually stopped a thousand years ago and the wealth of it was transferred to the Lonely Mountain. Our people kept it and crafted things from it—sparingly, of course—up until the dragon took the mountain, when we were scattered and most fled to the Blue Mountains. But not all." He looked around at the Company before furthering his logic, and for a moment the concentration in his brow made him look very much like his uncle. "Years later, Eisa's mother comes to Gondor and has a child, and the one, single thing that she leaves for the child is a trinket of mithril with the child's heart-name carved into it. That means it had to have been inscribed recently, but the chain is silver and shows enough wear to have lasted at least a century or so. Case in point: she must have come from Erebor."

Balin murmured something quietly in agreement, and that was the only sound in the courtyard for several very long, very stretched out but very rapidly passing seconds. Ori was eyeing Bilbo with trepidation, probably fearful that the Burglar would faint again, and was torn between that looming danger and the itch in his fingers that wanted him to snatch up his journal.

"Well, that explains a lot," Eisa's mouth said candidly of its own volition.

* * *

"Kíli, _really!_ I'm fine, it's just still sinking in," protested Eisa, despite her feet still refusing to obey her commands with the proper precision.

Or any precision at all, rather. And that wasn't mentioning the slight lingering quakes in the cores of her knees. She was pretty sure that she'd never had an emotional shock like this in her life. After all, she had grown up without a real family. And yet, that too had suddenly changed, to an extent.

"And I'm still not letting go," Kíli retorted stubbornly, staring straight ahead even though he knew she would never be able to see his blush in the torchlight. He had her tucked into his side with an arm around her waist as he walked her back to her chambers.

Eisa huffed but didn't complain. There wasn't anything to complain about in the first place; only that she quite frankly wasn't used to being taken care of. Kíli's closeness and warmth were nice, and she thought she might be feeling a bit steadier by the time they reached her door.

That thought went straight out the figurative window when they stopped and she looked up into his face.

They were still very close together, and even though she could only make out half of his face in the light from the lamps, something made her want to look away but not at the same time. Sweet Valar, why was her face burning?

He blinked and the torchlight seemed to get caught in his eyes. Eisa noticed offhandedly that no matter how the rest of him got chewed up and spit out by nature and battle and Eru knew what else, his eyes never changed. It was…nice. Comforting. Steady. Strong. Like him. And he still hadn't let go of her waist.

"Are you going to be alright?" His question should have interrupted the comfortable silence, but it didn't. The question came of genuine concern, not just an expected gesture.

All of a sudden, Eisa's throat was very tight, and when no sound came out at her first attempt, she settled for a nod that was probably more vigorous than necessary.

"You look better, I think," he murmured, putting his other hand to her cheek gently, as if subconsciously. "You were a bit pale for a few moments there."

She nodded some more and then forced herself to stop. Her hands were still pressed against his chest, and it was like they were sealed there by the heat of his heartbeat. "I think I'll be alright. Maybe I'd better just sleep on it."

It was Kíli's turn to nod too much, and he struggled for a moment as he tried to think of what to say while trying not to let go of her too quickly. "I just…um." He snatched up her hands without thinking and was again surprised at how much larger his own were. "You…"

"Yes?" Eisa was surprised that she was able to say anything, for her mouth was suddenly parched, and the words seemed to be forming themselves without consulting her mind.

"Y…You looked beautiful tonight," he said without rushing it too much, but it still felt like only a blink later once he had brushed his fingers across her cheek once more and uncharacteristically retreated into the shadows.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Believe in Me**

**Disclaimer: **Another run-in with a security force, and still no one's arrested me for copyright claims. Oh yeah - that's 'cause I _don't_ claim to own anything!

**A/N: **I'm not an escaped convict, I swear. Just a poor almost-college student. But yeah, so I think I've defeated the dreaded writer's block!? Something about where I spend my summers just sucks the writing mojo out of me. But hey, here we are, and who am I to make excuses. Official business! 1) I'm officially closing the poll. Any further opinions shall be taken via PM :) 2) The name thing wasn't completely explained last time due to chapter-chopping, but the info here and in the future should make the whole deal a bit clearer. The concept is kind of a headcanon of mine, and, well, the way my minds works... :P 3) One of you lovely people was the 200th story subscriber, so kudos to you all, my friends! *teary hugs* You flatter me. 4) This chapter was really entertaining to write, once I could pound it into shape in my head and slap it into my word processor in some kind of vaguely coherent arrangement! Enjoy! :D

So many thanks to: **Singer of Water** (Aaaaahahaha tension got you then? xD Yeah okay so heart-names are kind of a headcanon of mine. I've read several fanfic works where it's a thing,so I adopted the idea. I'm not sure what the canon roots are, if any, but it seemed plausible so I rolled with it :P That's all. Thanks!), **DragonOwl** (Don't you just want one for your own? x3), **Guest** (Hurhurhur. But noooo, don't die of tension! o.0 Aren't they just the cutest dwarfy family though? I keep saying I want to adopt Bofur as my uncle or something), **Fellowship of Avengers** (Haha, it could cause problems if they weren't o.O Exactly, that's the mystery! I'm thinking around thirty? I think that's about early teens for a human so that's what I'm sticking with. Bleh, I explain the inner-name thing more in this chapter...I broke it all up when it came to uploading, hah. Hope this chapter helps! Thanks :), **Borys68** (Thank you!), **Abyss Prime** (*organ music* The plot thickens...), **AemiKili** (N'aaaaaaawwwwwwwwwww, stop it you. You're too good to me :P That really is one of the biggest compliments though, when someone says I should turn things into actual books :3 So as always, thank you for everything), **the Random Oliphaunt** (Lol. I'll admit that's something I'm kind of a sucker for. I tried to make it logical and not too Mary Sue-ish :P Haahahaha yaaaay! :D I'll also admit that the Erebor jag was a snap decision of mine 0.o Let's hope it doesn't bite me in the ass...?),** i am a Fire-jay** (Eeeee, thanks!), **Amber** (Wow, well that was a hell of a long time to flail in a fangirl-induced frenzy! o.o Oh wait...that was totally my fault. *looks over shoulder for shadowy lurkers* Ehehe...heh...heh... Enjoy! *hides*),** Lady Izel** (Haaaaahaha! Got ya! xD), **LovingBOBThePacific** (Aw, thanks! Hope you like the update!), **Fluff-loving Guest** (A bit of fluff for you, eh? ;D I'll be honest...I haven't decided? *sweatdrop* I can't wait either, lol. Thanks!), **animelver14** (Thank you!), **Jess** (Ooof, I probably didn't catch you before you went on vacation...sorry! 8/ But enjoy anyway! :D Glad you liked the fluffy teaser bit xD), **Becca** (Haha, yay! Thanks!), **0kami** (HOLYMOTHER~ You've read Fearless too?! Er...I mean, it's been on break for a while, but I'm working on it, I swear...*seriously guilt-tripping* But oh my goodness, thank you so much. I'm seriously honored by that compliment, it means a lot. Enjoy the update!), **Lissy the Dunadan**, **shockin'blueeyes**, **camcakes**, **TheFoxCannotSummit**, **XscouselondonerX**, **Isn't that Ironic**, **Spirited Mare**, **HHopeK143**, **Bedlam87**, **Hadewig**, and **all the rest of you ever-patient readers**. :)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

_In Which There Is An Overall Regression In Maturity_

Well, she sure as all creation couldn't sleep after all that. Eisa considered praying to Irmo and Estë, but at the same time, she didn't _want _to fall asleep and encounter the dreams she might find there.

Damn it all. Damn it _all_, for keeping her in the dark for so long and for dumping this on her all at once.

"I don't _want_ a heart-name," she snapped with her nose buried in a pillow. "I'm already Eisa!"

Immediately she felt terrible. Her necklace had been the one thing connecting her to anyone in the world, so maybe she was supposed to figure out what it all meant for her and where she came from. The opportunity to belong had been literally placed in her hands, and all she could do was fuss about it.

But what if she didn't want to know where she came from?

Her mother might have given her the heart-name that she had because it would reveal something about herself or her origins. What if it meant "elf-born" or something equally scandalous? (No, but that was ridiculous. She was getting paranoid.)

Not that she minded being the subject of scandal, but Nienna have mercy, all she wanted was to fit in with no questions asked.

She was Eisa; wasn't that enough?

Why did she need some second name that she'd never even reveal to anyone because who on Arda would she ever be close enough with and trust enough to do so, that she'd never use and quite possibly try not to think about?

Why did she need an identifier to link her to anyone, be it individuals or an entire people? She was already her own person; wasn't that enough?

So what if she wanted to fit in—she was doing fine on her own—it was better to remain a mystery than risk grounds for perpetual alienation from those who might be her own people, wasn't it?

She hadn't even chosen her own name; it had been chosen for her, so then what if it was wrong, what if it wasn't what she had turned out to be—and what if she wasn't the person she was supposed to have become, what if she wasn't enough—?

_Why would she possibly want something like that to define her?_

Two hours after she had lain down in bed, she rolled over and fidgeted for the thirty-seventh time, gave a snarl of a sigh, and kicked the covers off in an uncoordinated flurry.

She was going to Lord Elrond's library.

* * *

Eisa drew her brows together and hummed in the back of her throat at the approaching cloud bank. The sky, unusually dim all day, was slowly becoming an odd brownish-purple sort of color as the heavy-looking clouds slogged over the ridge of the nearest peaks and into the valley.

Sure enough, within a minute she received two very fat wet splotches down her back and one right on top of her head. Surveying the area, she judged whether it was worth it to seek out real shelter or not. She decided not, as she had come out for a nice private walk anyway and the storm couldn't last for too long. Some solitude would have just the same value if she was stationary, so she ducked onto an alcove set into the stone wall to her left. It was several surprising feet deep, and she leaned against the back wall before sliding down it to sit on the ground.

Groaning quietly, she rubbed her eyes. She hadn't slept well, of course, and what she had found in the library hadn't exactly helped to alleviate the previous night's onslaught of revelations. And then there was Kíli's strange behavior to consider.

She decided not to think about that.

The clouds quickly began to dump their contents down in earnest, so it was no surprise that Eisa didn't hear several sets of small footsteps until their owners were practically on top of her. The five elf-children clearly hadn't expected anyone to be plopped down in their secret hiding spot, and they skittered to a stop as soon as they spotted Eisa.

She blinked at them, fairly paralyzed out there in the rain, before remembering that they might well be afraid of her.

"Well, come on." She smiled, but not too widely, and unnecessarily scooted over a bit. "There's plenty of room in here."

They glanced at each other for a moment—if they were human children, their ages would have ranged from about five to eight years old—before scurrying under cover with the blonde boy who appeared to be the ringleader going first.

"It got wet out there awfully fast, didn't it?" Eisa babbled on cheerfully. "Bit of a surprise. Does it rain often here?"

A few of them shook their heads by reflex, but the others still wouldn't move any further.

At this, Eisa sighed and lost a bit of her put-on good humor. "You don't have to be afraid of me, you know. Is that it?" She had never fancied herself particularly good with children. It was simply that she would tell them the truth, and she found that they appreciated that, no matter the race or age.

The blonde boy was the one to speak up first. "Are you a dwarf?"

"Yes, I am. My name's Eisa. At your service." She bobbed her head.

With a few looks between him and his companions, the child became confident that they were all of the same mind. "You don't look like one," he informed Eisa.

_Don't I? Damn it,_ she thought in amusement. "Oh yes? Well then, what _should_ a dwarf look like?" She raised her eyebrows.

There was puzzled silence for a moment. Then: "Hairy," declared a small blonde girl, which surprised a laugh out of Eisa.

"And like they've had too much to eat," put in another child.

"That's because they _have_," pointed out the fourth, as though it should be obvious.

"And angry," said a small, shy voice belonging to the boy at the back who hadn't yet spoken. His hair was inky black, and he appeared to have not yet entirely eliminated the habit of thumb-sucking.

His words made Eisa frown, and she shifted slightly. "Angry? What do you mean?"

The boy shrugged bashfully, and another child filled in for him. "They just always look like they're ready to attack, you know? It's scary."

"_These_ dwarves? Scary?" Eisa put on an exaggeratedly appalled face. Her assumption that the Company were the only dwarves these children had ever actually seen was mostly likely correct.

"Like the really big one with the tattoos and the two axes," whispered the blonde boy—clearly the brother of the blonde girl—looking around as though Dwalin might be lurking nearby.

In a way, she wanted to just sit them all down and give them a briefing on the history between dwarves and elves from an unbiased perspective. Teach them to think of all sides before making judgment calls; to search for the explanations around a person to solve the mysteries of his or her behavior, to put themselves in others' shoes as often as they wore their own.

But these were others' children, not hers, and the compulsion almost threw her off guard. It was also a rather illogical one with a low probability of success, so she restrained herself and settled for a simpler approach.

"The big one, huh? He sure looks like he's ready to attack, doesn't he?" Eisa nodded in agreement as the younglings bobbed their heads vigorously. A few of them had sat down as well.

"_And_ he's always near the other big one. The cranky-face that's supposed to be a king or something," added the boy with brown hair and eyes.

_Excellent. Wonderful transition._ Eisa wagged a finger. "Not just supposed to be. He _is_ a king; he's just been missing his crown and throne for a very long time. Those aren't what determine his rule, after all. He's a true king, no matter where he is in the world."

"Is that—" the blonde girl stopped herself, but plowed on after a moment's consideration— "is that one of those things that's supposed to only come from inside you? That's what Papa always says." She shot a defensive glare at her older brother, who had begun an impressive series of eyerolls.

"Precisely. Your father's absolutely right," Eisa encouraged her. "Thorin's been a good king. He built a new life and home for his people when theirs was destroyed. And even though he might look mean sometimes—" she dropped her voice secretively, causing the children to scuttle forward eagerly— "he's a very fair judge, even if he doesn't openly show his kindness. He might be a natural leader, but he listens too, although it usually doesn't seem like it." She chuckled. "He's a good king. But back to Mister Dwalin—the scary one, I mean. Well, if he's always near the king… What kinds of people does a king need near him?"

The girl with mousy brown hair opened her mouth, and then closed it with her little eyebrows furrowed. "Is that a trick question?" she huffed as the blonde boy suggested the answer of servants.

"No; and you're on the right track," Eisa answered them respectively.

"Advisors?"

"An army!"

"Soldiers!"

"Cooks!"

"Guards!"

Eisa pointed triumphantly to the brunette girl, who was looking very pleased with herself. "There, that's it! Mostly. You see, King Thorin and Mister Dwalin are brothers in arms. They grew up together, with Thorin learning how to be a king and Dwalin learning how to protect the king and his house."

"Like Lord Elrond and Mister Lindir?" the brunette boy spoke up.

She'd forgotten about the obvious perfect example. "Exactly like. I think. Mister Lindir always looks a bit stressed, doesn't he? Well, it's a tough job looking after a leader. Especially when he's missing his home and kingdom."

Varying measures of understanding dawned on their small, admittedly adorable faces.

"You see? Now, what are your names? It looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, halfway into a discussion about who knew what, a hooded and cloaked figure suddenly materialized out of the rain. At least two of the children yelped from their spots on the ground, and the youngest boy with the black hair scurried to hide behind Eisa.

Whoever it was ducked into the little makeshift cave and threw off his hood, then blinked in surprise.

"Oh," said Kíli, upon finding Eisa swamped by a herd of elf-children. "Hello."

"Are _you_ a dwarf _too_?" sighed the entertainingly know-it-all brunette girl in dramatic exasperation.

Kíli laughed easily and loudly, giving an affirmative and looking very handsome and good Valar where had _that_ feeling come from? Eisa nearly tripped over her own tongue as she rapidly busied herself with introductions, followed by an attempt to coax the youngest out from behind her.

"Ferion, don't you want to meet my friend Kíli? He isn't scary-looking, I promise." She bit back a grin at Kíli's slightly baffled expression.

After a moment, the brightest pair of big green eyes that Kíli had ever seen peered out from behind Eisa's shoulder. The boy edged out of hiding and planted himself firmly in her lap, thumb stuck in his mouth again.

"Oho, a bit of competition, aren't we?" Kíli chortled, and before Eisa had time to wonder what exactly that meant or even what she wanted it to mean, he had scooped up the child and begun tickling him mercilessly. Ferion shrieked with laughter and wriggled desperately, but it was no use. The other children leapt on Kíli and buried him before long, attacking until he mimed a dramatic death and flopped down on the ground, taking up the majority of the floor space.

Ferion sat himself down triumphantly on Kíli's stomach and nodded in satisfaction. "Defeated," he proclaimed simply.

Kíli made several gagging noises that made the elf-child squeak and hastily vacate the premises. He scurried into Eisa's lap again, warming her heart.

"Come on, O great warrior," Eisa teased her friend. "You don't go down that easily."

He was making a great comical show of not being able to get up, which was sending the rest of the children into near hysterics. Eisa rolled her eyes and stood up, holding Ferion on her hip when he refused to let go of her shirt. "Why do I keep you around?" she sighed melodramatically, flinging out her free hand to help him up.

"Never a dull moment?" he suggested, making her laugh as he stood up and brushed himself off exaggeratedly.

The little brunette girl suddenly shot Kíli a highly suspicious look and tugged on Eisa's breeches insistently. As she bent down to the child's level, Eisa saw the blonde boy excitedly engage Kíli in conversation about what kinds of weapons he used and had he ever seen an orc and how big is a warg and how do you kill them—

The girl glanced around furtively and whispered in Eisa's ear: "Are the two of you, you know—_courting_?"

Eisa would have found it funny, the way she said it like it was some sort of infectious deadly disease, but she was too busy choking on her own saliva. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kíli shoot her an amused look, but she was too busy trying to form words amidst her sputtering to pay much attention.

"Maybe you should be." The elf-child nodded sagely.

Later, Eisa wouldn't even remember how she responded; only that she tried desperately to laugh it off without stopping to ask herself why she had reacted so strongly to that idea.

* * *

Eisa entered her chambers to relax for a bit before suppertime—the weather had broken beautifully at last—and promptly set to glaring at her bed.

Stupid dreams.

She apologized halfheartedly to Irmo at that and set about flopping into an oversized chair.

She didn't feel like Ridráinleif. She felt like Eisa. It was childish, she knew, but the awkward clankiness of a different name on her tongue made the pessimistic side of her even more obstinate in refusing to accept it as hers.

Sure, she liked the sound of it—it felt strong, capable; but calm as well. It was a nice name, and it contained no hidden incriminating evidence or anything ludicrous like that, as far as she could tell.

But it still didn't feel like hers, and the meaning was making her slightly nervous besides.

She tugged thoughtfully on her right front braid and thought over the possibilities again. The first component was easy; it meant "beautiful." Easy enough for a mother to choose, giving a name to a child she would never get to raise.

_Or didn't want to raise_. She shoved away the thought.

The second component could mean "one," as in singular, or "alone."

The third meant "wyrd:" fate or destiny. Eisa blamed the dwarves' lack of linguistic evolution for the ambiguity on that one. Fate had a decidedly ominous ring to it, while destiny seemed like a much more optimistic spin on things. But both were rigid, and she did _not_ like that part.

So she could have one fateful doom, but it would be beautiful. She made a face. Urgh. If there was one thing she was fairly sure of, it was that her mother had not had the gift (or curse) of foresight. Scratch that one.

She could have a beautiful destiny, but it would be alone. Charming. No news there.

A beautiful fate alone just sounded like the ending to a tragic theatre production.

She swore loudly and flopped sideways in the chair, sticking her feet up on the armrest.

All she needed was an obscenely large meal and an obscene number of drinks. Or something. Anything, at this point. And, she decided as she rubbed her temples long-sufferingly, no strange dreams tonight.


End file.
